A Ha'tak To Far
by Kalnar
Summary: The mysteries behind file 30185 are revealed.
1. Hell

Chapter 1: Hell

7 November 1997

Badakhshan Province, Afghanistan: Exact location classified

1304 Hours

"Incoming!" Captain John Pike, screamed across the din of battle, his voice cool enough to get the message across, but tinged with enough fear to cause the rest of the men in his Special Forces Team to become more nervous. A bright light illuminated their position, growing steadily more luminous until dirt kicked up from the RPG detonation lowered the ambient light a notch.

So much for reliable intel. The team's mission was supposed to be clean and precise, surgical insertion, surgical extraction. Sure there was expected resistance. They didn't expect all of Afghanistan to be against them on this one day. The plan was for Pike to move in with his Delta team from the north, while a Green Beret team provided security around the entrance to the cave. The Delta team was supposed to move in through the mountain caves, kill any who resisted, take the enemy equipment and as many hostages as possible. Then, run five miles to a pickup point where three Blackhawk helicopters would load them up and leave. The Army had learned its lesson in Somalia, air cover was provided by two AC-130 gunships.

The plan started out well enough. The entrance was breached rather quickly, and all the important equipment was separated between the Delta and Green Beret teams. Almost on cue, anything and everything that could go wrong, went cataclysmically wrong. Gunmen appeared everywhere, and bullets couldn't have been coming down faster if there had been a dozen mini guns stationed around the cave. And of course terrorists appeared from various other caves, pouring RPGs upon the encircled troops. The AC-130s were recalled because of low fuel. A group of three Apaches were already on their way, ETA twenty-three minutes, an eternity in combat.

Because of this Pike ordered his team to take a defensive posture in the cave, as well as ordering the Green Beret team back inside to assist in the defense. Where they were positioned before they would have been cut down quickly. Delta held the left flank, Green Berets held the middle and the right flank. Their rear was protected by the cave. Medics were kept busy, concentrating on the most serious first, occasionally able to deal with minor injuries like a clean bullet hole. Pike would have preferred being above the terrorists, anything to lessen the uphill battle that they were fighting on all sides but that wasn't possible at this moment.

"Captain Dawson!" Pike yelled over the roar of gunfire. The captain was in charge of the Green Beret team paused his steady firing, turned around looking for who called his name.

"Yes sir?" Dawson said, locking eyes with Pike. Pike didn't respond, he just grabbed the man's vest and pulled him into the recesses of the cave. Dawson would have been angry, but the man in front of him was a seasoned warrior, and most likely knew what he was doing. At least, that's what he hoped.

"We have to move or we'll be overrun! Look," Pike stopped, pulling out a map and a pencil. "If we can move to this cave over here, we will have a much more defensible position from which we can get a better look at what we have before we start our run to the extraction zone. Get your men ready to move. Delta moves first, Green Berets provide rear cover. Five minutes, Hooah?"

"Hooah!" Dawson moved off towards his team, Pike towards his. Something was wrong with the Delta team, though. Only two silhouettes were firing at the enemy. Pike swung one of the soldiers around.

"Sgt. Black? Where's McCullins?" Sergeant Black had an ironic name. Everyone who first heard of Black being referred to by his last name by one of his team-mates, that that person was racist. Black was really a white kid from Seattle who never ever tanned, and his shoulders—especially in Afghanistan—was normally covered by a large sunburn. Black manned his M4 SOPMOD with the proficiency required of any Delta. Black motioned to a body at the foot of a boulder nearby.

"Took one through the face, Sir. Don't worry, I tagged the guy who got him, sir. Swallowed two rounds, sir." Black motioned to a body laying in an uncomfortable position backwards over a boulder.

"Did he also give you that?" Pike motioned to the two bloody holes, one left a long gash on the top of his knee, the other a drill right through his right hand.

"Yes, sir," Black screamed a little louder, as the incoming fire intensified. Pike brought up his rifle and squeezed the trigger four times. A terrorist dropped to the frozen ground with a crunch, his RPG tube quickly following suite. The impact with the ground caused the armed RPG to scream high above the cave and high into the sky.

Pike took some time explaining the plan to Master Sergeant Black, and told him to tell Sergeant Sidlowski, and report back. Pike aimed over the rock with his M4, letting some of his anger at the loss of a teammate out via well placed bullets and unfortunate terrorists. Pike glanced down at his watch, four and a half-minutes had passed. Black reported back, letting him know Sidlowski knew the plan. Pike glanced at Dawson, who gave a slight nod back. The Green Berets were ready.

Pike looked tapped Black and Sidlowski, getting their attention. He gestured with his eyes over the rocks. They understood. All three grabbed frag grenades pulled the pins, waited, and threw at almost the same time. As soon as the air was filled with deadly shrapnel, two bodies jumped the boulder and began a dead sprint. Pike ran around the boulder, burdened by carrying the body of McCullins. Pike's M4 hung loosely from the straps as he wielded his M9 pistol firing at terrorists who got too near.

The Green Berets quickly ran after the Deltas, striving to catch up, one struggling under the weight of a teammate who had been struck on the ankle. The Deltas reached the entrance to the new cave, Sidlowski and Black clearing the interior of the cave while Pike dumped the load off of him and swung out his M4 catching a surprised terrorist jumping up to attack the still-running SF team. The two Deltas came back satisfied the cave was cleared and began laying down fire for the Green Berets to make it back safely.

"Dawson!" Dawson turned around to respond but was caught by an AK round at the base of the skull. He died instantly. Pike grimaced momentarily but immediately brought his thoughts back to the task at hand. "Who's the next in command?"

"I am, sir." A man wearing a Warrant Officer's insignia walked over to the Captain, talking in a normal voice for now. For no apparent reason, bullets had stopped raining down at such a heavy pace.

"Get your team to place claymores around the entrance and place a four man team as guard, recall the rest of your team inside for a briefing. Post four guards while we wait for the opportune moment before we rush out and head towards the evac point. Don't worry, they'll be rotated out."

"Yes, sir!" the man hurried off to do what he was ordered to do. Pike took the moment of peace he had to relax, lean up against the cave wall, close his eyes, and think of the last time he and McCullins had together. It was before they deployed, the entire team and their families where out playing two-hand touch football, McCullins kids were running up and down the "football field," happy as can be.

"Captain Pike!" Moment over. The voice called again, "Captain Pike!"

"What?" Pike said pulling himself out of the trance. Black and Sidlowski ran up to him.

"What's the plan, sir?"

"Wait a second, when the Green Beret team gets over here I'll brief you all. While we're waiting, take a seat, relax. You'll need all the rest you can get." The two took his advice and sat down on either side of him. The team got only seconds of rest before the other SF team showed up. Pike got up, dusting himself off.

"Alright, here's the plan. Gather around. We still have a five-mile run back to the evac point. This should be quite do-able when our air support arrives in," Pike paused, glancing at his watch "six minutes. We hold out until then and have them run a couple time across the terrorist positions. We pop some smoke, and take off running. Deltas take front, Green Berets the rear. If we get pinned down, form something as close as a circle as possible. From there we shoot while calling down air support. We should theoretically hit the evac point in forty-five minutes if we don't get pinned down. Any questions? Good. Four and a half minutes left. Switch the guard."

The two Deltas and two random Green Berets switched guard duties with the four Green Berets and Pike quickly briefed the remaining soldiers. Two minutes. Pike went to check on the Warrant, who had recently relieved his dead friend. The man was upset, but still able to do his job.

Pike glanced at his watch and frowned. The Apaches should have been here one minute ago. Pike found the Green Beret radioman.

"Where are they, sergeant?"

"Sorry sir. They got recalled. A more urgent situation was developing else ware and they got sent in being the closest. They are just finishing, but don't have enough fuel to get here and back to base. Another two are being sent out, ETA one hour."

"What? We can't wait that long. Some of the documents we found are indicative of an imminent attack."

"Can't we call it in on the radio?"

"Negative, are radios aren't that secure. We could tip our hand to what else we might have found and what we currently have. Pack up, sergeant." The man nodded.

The Green Beret team and the Deltas were ready to move in no time at all, as they were a few second ago ready to leave but heard the apaches were recalled. They had dropped their gear, but it was still in order and took no time at all to put back on.

"Black, Sidloski, ready?" Pike asked. They both nodded. All three fished into their gear and retrieved some smoke grenades. They popped the spoon and cooked the grenade for three second. A quick toss and an instant smoke-screen popped up.

"Move!" Pike screamed. AKs and RPKs rattled, sending down a maelstrom of bullets. A few RPGs screamed through the dense smoke, but succeeded in nothing except making a dent in the rock face.

The next few minutes were spent running for their lives. Men grunted under the burden of their packs, Pike under his pack and the body of a dead friend. Bullets whistled and cracked all around, many striking nearby boulders causing chips to fly up at the soldiers in a disconcerting fashion. Black held his own with a steadily quick pace and keeping the point position locked down solid. Sidlowski struggled with the pace Black set, but could more then hold his own on the right flank. Pike worked hard to keep up with Black under the weight of his teammate, but managed to still do a passable job on the left flank. All the men ran with as much energy as they could muscle to keep going. They had already fairly sprinted two-and-a-half miles, then Murphy came.

Terrorists jumped up from all sides, raining fire upon the already tired soldiers. They reacted instinctively, all pulled up their weapons and fired at the fools who exposed themselves. Terrorists dropped to the ground groaning and clutching at their bloody chests and other wounds. The two teams formed a circle with the efficiency of a well-practiced team, even though the two teams had hardly done any training with each other before deployment. The next five or so minutes were spent with terror, blood, gunpowder, and metal flying through the air interspersed with screams from both sides.

"No, shoot that one!"

"Agh! Medic!"

"Cover me while I move!"

"Got you covered!"  
"Moving!"

"Reloading!"

"He's over there!"

"Frag out!"

"I need a mag!"

"Ha! Ya missed me!"

"Hooah! Another OPFOR down!"

"I lost him!"  
"I see him!" Two gunshots followed.

"Got him!" The next sound was the most blessed noise heard to man, and they couldn't even see the speaker.

"Yankee-zulu-niner-niner-three, this is mike-whiskey-one-five-seven, over," the radio crackled. The Green Beret radioman cheered in delight before answering.

"Mike-whiskey-one-five-seven, this is yankee-zulu-niner-niner-three. Can you drop some led on the enemy soon, over?"

"Affirmative, but I need to know who's who. All we can see up here is muzzle flashes. Distinguish yourself from them somehow, over."

"Wilco, mike-whiskey-one-five-seven. We'll have a red smoke grenade popped in our midst. We are in a circle firing outwards," he stopped to yell at a teammate. "Edwards! Throw a red smoke in the middle!" The man complied. The radioman turned back to his radio. "Smoke is being deployed. Will you hit everything else, over?"

"Wilco, yankee-zulu-niner-niner-three. We see the smoke and we're coming in. Mike-whiskey-one-five-seven out." A few tense seconds passed as both teams waited nervously for their saviors. About the time that they were convinced the Apaches weren't coming, they felt the prop-wash as the Apaches flew fast about five feet above the boulders, machine guns blazing. The deafening roar of the weapons, the screams of the struck enemies, and the rocks splitting in half after being struck by bullets was enough to get Pike to duck below the top of the rock, wedging his hands inside his helmet in an attempt to cover his ears. He had seen enough death already.

The Apaches roared back into the sky and headed back to base to reload before the terrorists could fire at them with RPGs. A few stood up to aim at the Apaches, but were quickly shot by the forgotten troops on the ground. The two teams used the distraction to start running again.

"Go!" Pike screamed at his Deltas. The Warrant Officer issued similar shouts to his team as they men dashed down the mountain side. Pike stopped momentarily, stooping to pick up McCullins body and toss it on his back, but still kept up. The next few minutes were spent hearing nothing but the plodding of boots, smelling the sweat and blood of teammates alive and dead, ignoring the burning pain in your legs, and focusing on making it to the evac-point alive. All of them were so sick and tired of hearing AK fire, that they almost didn't stop when they were ambushed again. RPGs forced them to stop.

They again formed the circle, but quickly made it a semi circle as one side of the circle was completely exposed to RPK fire from bunkers further up the hillside. Tracers raced overhead just to disappear somewhere below them, hopefully not on a harmless village. RPGs blew apart some of the rocks they were hiding behind.

"Black!" I'm going up to take out that bunker! Stay here and give me cover fire!" He shouted over the din of the battle. Black nodded. Pike counted down from three with his fingers finally jumping over the rock when he got to zero. Black spun over the rock firing upwards with great rapidity, causing a terrorist to take two rounds through the chest and the other terrorists to dive for the ground.

Pike reached the first of three bunkers. He readied himself close to the door, made a mental countdown and tossed a frag into the room. The shrapnel that flew out the door was accompanied by body parts shredded off the human body. Pike charged through the door convinced everyone was dead in there. Inside he found a RPK with about a quarter of a belt left. He quickly picked up the weapon and rested it on the edge of the quickly constructed bunker and fired the remainder of the rounds at the terrorists below. He was out of ammo quickly. Pike checked his ammunition. He mentally swore.

Besides the mag in his gun right now he only had one other mag with ammo in it. He hadn't been keeping track of how much ammo he had in this mag, he had forgotten to count. Pike dismissed it, made a mental note to conserve ammo as much as possible, and moved towards the second bunker. This one was obviously not as cheap as the first bunker and consisted of more than a bombed out building with wood planks. This one had bona-fide concrete walls and a small slat from which rounds could be dumped downrange. Pike would take this out slightly differently.

Pike just kicked open the door and cleared the room old-fashioned style. It turned out that it didn't matter too much how he cleared the room. Only a few an RPK gunner, assistant gunner, SVD sniper, and an AK gunner occupied the room, all were quickly put down with a few rounds of 5.56mm NATO rounds. Pike reloaded his last mag, as he was only able to put one round through the heart of the sniper when his gun ran out.

Pike peered through the slat of the bunker, quickly noting that while some of the fire had stopped coming in, the team was still getting hit hard. Pike fired two rounds at terrorists before he remembered he had all of this wonderful weaponry at his disposal.

Pike first picked up the AK, firing bursts of automatic fire into the backs of terrorists. The SVD was next in line. Pike checked the mag for ammo, slapped it back in and fired careful shots at terrorists shooting at his friends. He lined up on the last terrorist he would shoot at with the SVD before he went to the RPK. He watched as the terrorist snuck up to the rock behind which Black was firing from. _"Die now. You won't hurt my friends anymore,"_ Pike thought. He squinted, and pulled the trigger. Click.

Pike's internal demons were screaming at him as he frantically searched the dead sniper for another SVD mag. He found one with ammo and quickly inserted it for the empty mag. He took aim again, slowly drawing back the trigger. He not-so-silently willed the crosshairs to line up on the bad guy. Perfect shot. Click. _"What?"_ Pike cycled the bolt thrice, tossing out three rounds. Hopefully this shot would work. He lined up the crosshairs again.

Black stood up to fire, as did the terrorist. Eight 7.62 mm bullets tore through Black's upper chest, neck, and head before he could respond. The fire drew the attention of three Green Berets; they pumped the baddie full of three M4 mags. Finally when his chest and back were a bloody mess devoid of life, Pike fired. The first round ripped apart the man's head like a popping water balloon. The next six rounds ripped the man's torso off as well as his arms as Pike vented his fury. The two remaining legs stood upright for a few moments before tottering into sans painting the ground red. The rock the terrorist was hiding behind was now coated in blood and garnished with parts of arms, hands, and a little bit of torso. Pike threw down the SVD in turn for the RPK. He hesitated. He could use this weapon for room clearing. He was almost out of ammo. Pike left the room as the tear in his soul from dead friends widened again.

Pike moved up to the next building, obviously the first built and with the most money. This one had at least two stories as it has been dug into the side of the mountain and rebar-enforced concrete held the building proudly. It might have been a shelter for the needy had it not been for the cruel slat at the front from which pain and suffering flew.

Pike carefully approached the slat in the front of the building, pulling one of his last frags out. He plopped it almost joyfully through the front slat, as if trying to rebuild his torn soul by taking the lives of those who took his friends life. As soon as it had dropped onto the floor, Pike dashed for a boulder about 10 meters from the door. The blast must have woken up nearby terrorists. As soon as the frag blew apart the people inside, Al-Qaeda members materialized out of the sand to see what had happened.

"_Take this,"_ his mentally screamed to all his opponents. Anger management 101, when no other venue of releasing anger, grab the largest light machine-gun nearby and let loose at your enemies. He stood out from behind the boulder, completely exposed to enemy fire. Two terrorists dropped to the ground screaming about wounds to the chest, while one fell against the wall with only a little bit of the head attached to the neck. After that, anyone who was in range of Pike dropped to the ground or dove behind cover. Casings and bindings thudded softly into the sand. Tracers licked boulders, walls, cement blocks, and of course, the occasional terrorist. He only killed a few people but he sent everyone down for a long enough time he was able to look for an escape route.

He hated clicking sound when you pull the trigger and nothing happens. He quickly retreated behind the boulder, planning his dash across the sand. During his rampage, he spotted a small, open door through which he planned on running. He dropped the RPK, and re-gripped the M4 that hung loosely from his shoulder. 28 shots left, he could make it. He sprinted for the door.

Odd things happen when facing imminent death. For one, time slows. He watched as bullets raced by him at the same speed of paintballs. He carefully aimed and fired at each and every terrorist he could see, carefully counting his shots, and estimating how many steps left before he could get to cover. 27, 26, 25, shots left. 50 paces. 17 shots left. 35 paces. 9, no 8 shots left. 20 paces. 3, 2 shots left. A terrorist raised his rifle. 1, 0 shots left. The terrorist dropped backwards, squeezing the trigger as he fell. _"Oh no!"_ The "paintballs" raced towards him. It felt as if someone must have punched him in the shoulder, leg, and gut simultaneously. He kept his forward momentum as the bullets toppled him over, just five steps from the door. He mind began sorting incoming information. _"Okay. I'm on my right side, with my right arm pinned underneath me. Ow! My right shoulder hurts, that must be where I got shot. My left arm is free, my M4 is out of bullets. Hey what's that?" _His right hand grasped the handle of his knife. _"Ha! You won't take me alive!"_ A terrorist approached him, shoving the Kalashnikov into Pike's face.

Pike jumped up, pulling his knife free in one smooth motion. Realization flickered in the terrorists eyes. The man squeezed the trigger on the rifle, sending automatic 7.62 rounds into the dirt. He tried to swing the rifle around to shoot Pike, but Pike was too close to aim at. The rifle barrel slapped into Pike's thigh, sending the rounds far behind him. Pike's knife flashed through the man's jugular. Pike seized the man's rifle, quickly turning and firing the remainder of the magazine at the stunned terrorists before disappearing through the door. The doorway and adjacent wall was instantly riddled with holes. Two bullets punching through the wall, one found its way immediately into Pike's side, the other and bouncing off his tibia. Pike let a string of epithets loose, directed at that lucky rifleman. Pike found a staircase inside, and dashed down it. Pike turned around and pulled the pin and popped the spoon on another fragmentation grenade. He gently tossed it up the stairs towards the wide open door. A man wheeled into the open door, quickly adjusting his aim down the stairs. He fell backwards with upwards of twenty holes in him. Two men ventured inside, wary of traps. Pike heard their footsteps on the stairs as he hid behind the wall at the bottom of the steps.

Pike hurriedly looked for something to defend himself with. His hand caught something at his thigh. Angrily, he glanced down to see what it was. His pistol!

Pike unsnapped the strap holding his M9 in, and drew it out in one fluid motion. He took up a position resting his arms on a nearby broken table. A body appeared, coming up the stairs. Pike commenced tactical breathing and aimed carefully. The first man's head split apart, causing the other man to run headlong out the building, creating panic in the remainder of the mob. They too, retreated. Pike breathed a sigh of relief. He brought his left hand up to his eye, and wiped the blood off his USMA (United States Military Academy—West Point) class ring for 1985.

Pike underwent a self examination. He was bleeding from his shoulder, his side, gut, and his shin. His side wound seemed the worse, as his uniform was soaked red for a distance around it. Not too bad, he'd seen worse. Pike tiredly pulled himself up and took an AK-47 and two mags with him before he rushed up the stairs and down to the embattled troops.

"Sidlowski, come on! Black's gone but we have to keep moving!" Pike said to Sidlowski who was still staring in shock at the lifeless body of his teammate. The battle raged for another few minutes, Pike having to rush out for more ammunition occasionally. The ambush finally ended, with the ambushees being victorious. Pike stopped for three seconds to gather his thoughts.

Pike quickly told a green beret to help hoist Black on Sidlowski's back. The Green Beret team split up the rest of the gear in Black's pack and began their march out. The Green Beret radioman gave the rest of the team the news that the Blackhawks were inbound, but were going to be a little late.

The teams marched the remainder of the way in silence, partially in mourning of fallen comrades partially to be more alert to avoid another attack. The only noises were the muted thuds of boots crushing the ground into a slightly more compact form. All the birds and other things of natural origin were strangely silent as if in memorial of the brave men who had lost their lives.

A half-hour or so of marching caused them to reach the evac point a little later then the choppers did. Pike hustled to the UH-60 bent over from the burden of McCullins and from desire not to be hit by the swinging blades of the helicopter. Pike quickly dumped his load into the chopper, rushing back out 25 or so meters to help Sidlowski with security while the rest of the team loaded up. Unfortunately, the noise of the helicopters covered the sounds of muffled thuds. The first mortar came down completely by surprise.

Pike picked himself up, spitting sand from his teeth. He ran to cover as another mortar shook the ground. Pike peeked up a smidge above the rock, watching in horror as another mortar fell on their position. Sidlowski saw the round coming, and ran for cover. The ground shook once more. The shockwave picked up Sidlowski, tossing him into a rock with a crunch. Pike jumped up and ran to where he lay. The impact had broken his neck, the spine protruded from the back and a ruptured jugular dyed the sand crimson. Pike grabbed the dead man by his web gear, quickly pulling him back to a few green berets who loaded him onto a chopper. Pike took position up behind a few rocks to give cover as the medics loaded Sidlowski's onto the choppers. Three more mortars rained from above, all causing rocks to fly nerve-rackingly close to the whomping rotor blades. Terrorists popped back up, trying in vain to get to the helicopters and capture the special forces one last time.

Many of the terrorists were cut back by the spinning M134 mini-gun, nevertheless Pike couldn't not shoot back. Pike raised his M4 and hesitated. _"This is out of ammo!"_ Pike mentally cursed himself for his forgetfulness. Pike fished back into his gear and pulled out his M9 pistol.

Pike swung over the rocks, firing three shots at an extremely close terrorist, dropping the man instantly. He turned and started shooting at people further and further away. The slide locked itself back. Pike ducked back behind cover and reloaded. He dug a mag out of his vest and slapped it back into the magazine well. Pike racked the slide of the pistol and he was back in action. Surprise flitted across his face as a shadow moved across his body. He looked up to see the butt of an AK-47 flying downwards. Blackness.

"Is that everyone?" asked the pilot.

"Yes sir, everyone is accounted for!" The Green Beret warrant replied. The three Blackhawks lifted into the air, unaware of the crowd massing around the unconscious body below.


	2. Pyre

Chapter 2: Pyre

Unknown Location

Unknown Date

Unknown Time

Pike woke up to the feeling of pain. He felt as if he had been run over by a truck and then dragged for a mile. Well, the second part was right, though he didn't know it. After the terrorists had knocked him out, the stripped off all of his weaponry and ammo. They had taken turns in kicking the lying figure, all of them angry at their brothers and relatives lying face-down in the sand with blood pooling around them. They were furious at the amount of their friends that had died in one day. As part of that fury, they had tied him to the back of a pickup and dragged him about a mile to their terrorist camp, where they had stuffed him in a shack tied to a chair and without any lights to see with.

He squinted into the blackness, trying to make out a shape, anything. He just needed something to get his bearing so he could go and kill everything in sight. Pike tried to pull his arm forward and grab anything as low-tech as a stick to use as a weapon. No such luck, bindings held him tight. His feet were tied down also; now he couldn't pull something over with which he could cut the cords. He remembered something and arched his back trying to reach something.

He had a few sets of "mission clothing" as he called them. They were really just regular army issue uniforms except he had sewn pockets on the inside of them for concealed weapons and other oddities. He had a spot for a boot-knife on the inside of his right ankle which he had foolishly left behind, a spot for a Para-Ordinance Warthog underneath the left side of his ribs also left behind, and a spot for a signal mirror underneath his left forearm. Right now he was trying to reach the half-inch razor sharp knife in the back of his pants. He finally was able to get a grip on the small blade and spun it around in his hands. He would be out of here in no time.

"You're awake. Glad to see that." Pike looked up to see blinding glare in the shape of an open door. The female voice probably came from the silhouette with long hair standing in the door way.

"You don't have an Arabian accent," Pike noted.

"No, I don't," she replied. "I was born on the West Coast, which is where I first learned that the U.S.A. is evil."

"And my point here is…" Pike prompted. The woman closed the door and flipped on a light switch to the left of the door. Pike blinked in the bright light. The redhead's hair glimmered in the light as she approached.

"Your reason for being here is to entertain me."

"I don't sing, dance, speak eloquently, tell jokes, nor am I a good host."

"I wasn't expecting you to." She quickly left the room, leaving the lights on. _"Good, now I can get to work on these ropes, and be out of here before I can say-, uh oh."_ The door opened again and the redhead came back in accompanied by a small man with a metal briefcase and a rather large, muscular Afghan. The redhead turned to the large man and said in Arabic,

"Begin." Pike translated in his head, silently thanking all of those intense Arabic exams at West Point. The big man slowly walked up to the chair-bound man and drew himself to his full height. The first instrument of torture was a sucker punch. The Afghan's fist collided with Pike's forehead slamming his head into the chair and tipping it over. Pike hit the ground with a groan silently cursing the pain on both sides of his head. Stars spun in his eyes as his body adjusted to the blinding pain. The Afghan really decided to get into it. Pike tried to scrunch his body and absorb the heavy blow to the stomach. The next hit caught him on the underside of the chin. Normally his head would fly backwards, but since he was laying on the ground his head had nowhere to go. The man dropped and elbow into the stomach of Pike. He instantly wanted to vomit—if he could do it on this guy that'd be an extra bonus. The boulders fists the man came down constantly, mercilessly all over his torso and face.

"Enough," the woman directed. The Afghan relented reluctantly, slowly getting up and tipping the chair right-side up. Pike was sure he had internal bleeding.

The knife! He had dropped it onto the ground during his beating. Pike's morale dropped like a stone. A short runty man walked over with a something in his hand. Pike figured out what it was when the needle jabbed into his arm without care for being gentle. Liquid rushed into his body and the needle was extracted. The man put his kit back together and left through the door with the Afghan.

"It'll kick in, in just a few moments. Be patient." That aggravating female voice came again from the corner.

"Some kind of pain-inducer I take it?" Her response surprised him, initially. When she finished her last sentence he understood and hated her eternally.

"No, they're pain killers. I want you to last through the repeated beatings, pain, and torture as long as possible. If you live through the fun of being beaten I'll just take a knife and play with your internal organs before you die an excruciating death."

"So… you work for the terrorists?"

"Hardly," she snorted. "I discovered a few years ago that humanity is nothing but a blot on the planet that needs to be wiped out. I figure there's nothing better than causing the world terror upon hearing my name while I stockpile enough weapons to destroy the world two times over. If only there was a way to do it without killing the rest of life on this planet. I just tell these fools that it's the will of Allah and they will trip over their feet. That is, they do now since I told them I am Allah incarnate. Don't worry," she said leaning close to him "I know that I'm not really Allah. I'm not insane."

"If you're not insane, which do you prefer me calling you: 'wacked,' 'crazy,' or 'FUBAR?'" She smiled a menacing smile.

"I'll go with 'wacked.' Don't worry, you won't have a sense of humor once were done with you." Pike spat the blood in his mouth on her face. "Well, well aren't we the ill-mannered one. We'll have to advance the timetable on torture level you endure. Get your rest; you have a painful rest-of-your-life ahead of you." She laughed quietly and retreated from the room, closing the door behind her. Pike almost broke right there. Almost.

Three weeks passed. Three weeks of medications that made all his nerves burn, of beatings, of being burnt by an acetylene torch, of being sliced by knives, of electrocutions, of psychological hell; three weeks of suffering. Pike endured all of these pains because he had to. He had no choice. He waited for a moment to strike. He had none, due to the fact that he still was tied with ropes to a chair—most of the time. They took him out to use the restroom, but he was always under a ten-man guard.

"Had enough?" The female voice asked. Pike glared at her and said nothing. She nodded at the Afghan who hit Pike squarely in the face with a broken branch. Pike instantly felt his skull fracture again. The chair toppled over again, as happened at least ten times a day, but today was different. When he hit the ground, he felt a sharp pain on his palm. He groped around behind him trying to push whatever it was away. The knife. The terrorists must have never seen it. Pike grabbed it with his hands and palmed it, hoping they would be done soon and he could get to work on the cutting of ropes. No such luck. It took a half-hour of on-and-off electrocuting before that demon in the shape of a woman was satisfied with his suffering. She left him alone with the thought that tomorrow he would be killed. Recently, a local Afghan defied her and he would be something new and more interesting, as Pike never begged for mercy to feed her god-complex. He never stooped that low, and she liked that feeling of absolute power of having someone grovel for their life in front of her.

He quickly got to work cutting the ropes off his wrist. The ropes cut into his wrist and the knife was cutting his palm, but it was nothing compared to what he had endured. Within a few minutes the ropes were severed and Pike bent down for the first time in an eternity to cut the ropes around his legs. He finally stood up and stretched, using muscles on his own for the first time in three weeks. Freedom felt so good, even though it was small. He only had the room to move around free in, but that was fine by him. Anything and everything can be used as a weapon, you just need to be desperate enough to look at it the right way.

Pike moved slowly around the room, coming up with a quick plan. Pike quickly took a stock of what was in the room. Nothing, really. He had his mini-knife, a few long rusty nails, a beaker with some of those nerve-meds that he despised, and a hammer.

First, he knocked on the door, causing the single guard outside to walk inside to see who was inside, when nobody was supposed to be in there. He walked inside and closed the door. He flicked on the lights to see an empty chair. The guard whirled just in time to see a nail go through his eye and into his brain, killing him instantly. Pike dragged the body over into the chair and set him in a way that made him looked tied up.

Second, he used the hammer to pry up some of the floor boards. He had noticed when he had been outside that all the buildings in the small camp were on wooden stilts, about a foot and a half to two feet tall. That was plenty of room for him to crawl through. When he had removed enough boards for him to move through, he waited for the third part of his plan to come into action. He quickly remembered to flip off the lights, right as someone decided to investigate why there was nobody guarding the dangerous prisoner.

The man entered opened the door and saw the figure sitting in the chair sleeping, apparently. Seemingly satisfied the prisoner wasn't escaped, he retreated out the door to get the doctor to give the man a "gentle" wake-up call. The group quickly approached the building.

The third part of the plan was finally coming into action. The door opened, and the doctor and two guards walked in, flipping on the lights and closing the door. They quickly turned around to the seated figure and pulled its head back to give an injection into the neck.

"Time to wake up," the doctor crooned, "time for your injection," One guard grabbed the hair of the dead terrorist and jerked the head back. Realization struck them the same time the lights disappeared.

All three stood there dumbfounded slowly realizing what was happening. The silence and fear pervaded the room to the point of tangibility. Seconds ticked by as soft footfalls were heard. One guard offered a muffled scream but soon gurgled and grew silent. The second guard's terror was probably registered on the Richter scale and felt in California. He clicked the weapon into 'full auto,' and glanced around fearfully hearing those footsteps again, coming from everywhere. He felt a hand on his shoulder and spun around only to be nailed to the ground, literally. The doctor stumbled backwards, falling onto the floor in fear. He trembled as he pulled a pistol out of his pocket, but it was batted away by a silhouette. The doctor stammered about his riches and how they would all be Pike's, but was cut short by a knife flashing through his throat. That ended his short, insignificant, evil, life.

Pike gathered the pistol, one AK-47 from the guards and an extra two magazines before disappearing out the hatch in the floor. He crawled across the dirt keeping his distance from the snakes as he made his way to the edge of the building. He finally convinced himself that there was no one coming before dashing across the small gap between two buildings. Once on the other side, he worked his way to what was probably the far edge of the room above. He listened to what was inside trying to figure out if anyone was inside. If anyone was, they were being really quiet. He finally started work with his hammer pulling boards down and creating a gap through which he could climb up.

Pike hoisted himself through the hole and swung the pistol out, making sure there was no one inside. Good, it was empty. It was also a jackpot. He had come up inside one of their weapon stores. He opted to carry only two guns and the pistol, hoping they would be the most prolific. Well, two guns plus his opening sequence of an RPG. _"This is going to be perfect!"_

"Stop!" A voice said behind him in Arabic. Pike whirled to see the big burly Afghan he hated so much. The man had just come in to get his beloved RPK when someone had _his_ RPK slung over their back. Pike swung up his RPG and fired. All the gases flew backwards and out a window in the back causing a passing terrorist to drown in his own blood as the gases collapsed his lungs. The rocket launched out of the tube and lodged itself in the man's stomach before it had time to arm. Consequently, both man and rocket flew/fell out the open door to detonate outside in a fantastic display of fireworks and death. All of the terrorists were stunned.

Pike swore. He wasn't quite ready to fight all of them yet, but he could still fight, and he would. Pike dashed up to the door and looked out at the stunned men outside. Pike swung up the RPK and let loose in bursts. Traces flew after the men, all of whom were scrambling to avoid being found by the green flames flying through the air at an incredible speed. Only a few of those standing in the open actually made it to safety. Pike dashed through the door to avoid being pinned down, cleared the side of the building, and turned around to shoot anyone who tried to run after him. Two attempted to do so, and were promptly cut down by Pike's devastating accuracy.

The infamous clicking noise clued Pike into his lack of ammunition. He tossed his RPK into the dirt, instantly retrieving an AK. Pike fired a few bursts before retreating behind the building to attack from another direction. A few of the terrorists tried to flank him, and ran straight into the roar of Pike's AK. Pike dashed past their twitching, bleeding corpses.

Pike dropped an AK magazine from his gun, slapped a new mag in and racked the bolt. He moved on without hesitation. A terrorist and Pike ran into each other as both took the same path around the same corner. Pike brought his AK to bear, bullets ripping thin air and old wood apart. The terrorist ducked a behind the corner. Pike dove under the building and drew the pistol. Pike lay next to the edge of the building keeping his aim steady at where he knew the terrorist would jump out to. The man readied himself, and swung around spraying bullets into the desert. He looked around and saw Pike under the building. There was a small flash and then nothing as the bullet ripped through the brain of another terrorist.

Pike wriggled out from underneath the overhang and re-gripped his AK. He swung around, firing another quick volley straight into the face of another terrorist. Pike snuck out slowly. He heard no movement, he saw nothing. He slowly edged out into the middle, keeping his head moving. In the middle of the road, a white truck stood, motor running. He glanced at the driver.

Her.

She looked outwards, grinning sadistically at him.

"Having fun?"

"I'm going to kill you."

"Ah, ah, ah," she said, as if scolding a child. "Watch your temper. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll have to catch up with you later, I have a flight out of the country, and I don't want to be late." Pike swung up his AK at her and pulled the trigger. Click. _"I hate that noise!"_ he screamed internally as his tormenter rushed past him in a car. Pike jumped at the car in desperation. He grabbed the review mirror, and tried to break the window to get at his tormentor. She snapped a pistol round through the car door and his arm. He instantly released his grip on the car but was still slid a few feet despite the fact he had already let go of the speeding car. He jumped to his feet and watched the vehicle fade into the distance. Pike dropped onto his knees. He had killed everyone here, except the one that he wanted to kill. Pike's attention was drawn by a nearby truck and a pile of gas and oil cans nearby.

The next half-hour was spent by Pike spreading oil and gasoline all around and on every building. He wanted this place gone. He went over to the three remaining oil and gas cans, trying to figure out what to do with them. _"Aha!"_ Pike took a step beck and fired all of the rounds from his pistol into the cans, putting a total of fifteen holes in them. Fuel gushed from them, soaking into the ground. Pike slowly walked through into the weapon warehouse until he found what he wanted. He grabbed it and dropped it in the back of the truck.

Pike hopped inside the truck, found the keys, and drove a short distance off. Pike hopped out of the back of the truck and reached into the bed of the truck grabbing what he had retrieved from the weapons depot, a flare gun. Pike aimed carefully, squinted, and…

The red flare shot from the smoking barrel, quickly finding its intended target, igniting it in blazing fireball. That fireball ignited the rest of the gasoline, enveloping the entire compound in a few short seconds. Pike stood there for a second, watching this hated place burn to the ground. He turned his back and got into the truck, leaving behind the blazing compound. In fact, it was more then a flaming compound. It was a funeral pyre; a pyre for him. Pike died there.

Pike awoke in a sterile, white room. He remembered very little of his recovery due to blood loss, the relief at not being in constant, intense pain, and his immense fatigue. What he did remember was blacking out while driving towards a gate. He found out later that he had rammed the U.S. Embassy gate and was almost shot on the spot, as the soldiers were expecting a suicide bomber. A brave sergeant approached the door cautiously, expecting the slumped over figure to instantly jump up and shoot back. The man opened the door to jump backwards in surprise as a U.S. Soldier tumbled out.

They quickly checked his dog tags to see if he really was an American. At least he had American dog tags, that didn't mean he wasn't a terrorist. Still, they were American soldiers and they had to offer medical help. The medics on patrol were appalled and slightly sickened at the obviously cruel torture he had been through. Bruises covered him from head to toe, as did acetylene-crisped flesh, electrical burns, severe knife cuts, and many broken bones. They bandaged him up as well as they could and put him in a stretcher attached to an IV for blood and an IV for fluids. The team carried him inside the U.S. Embassy back as quickly and safely as possible.

Once back at the embassy, they unloaded him into the embassy hospital, where he could receive better care. Once there, his dog-tags proved to be a problem. Every time they inputted the name and ID to get the man's file, they would receive a "top-secret" warning on their computer. They eventually had to get the general in charge of the forces in the Middle East area of operation to come give them clearance. The general read the file quickly to determine the exact nature of this unusual soldier. He read the file, eyebrows arching in surprise at the resume'. Ranger, Green Beret, H.A.L.O. Freefall, and Delta were all along the top of the list of his accomplishments. The general decided to give security clearance to a few specific doctors, nurses, and a few guards, after warning them that this patient never existed. This man had been marked MIA for three weeks after a botched mission.

In that hospital, with three guards posted around the room and a few security clearance-blessed nurses and doctors milling around his room, is how Pike finally woke up.

"Where am –" Pike began, but was soon cut off.

"Don't talk. You're in a hospital in the American Embassy in Afghanistan." Pike struggled to sit upright when a gentle hand pushed him back to the mattress. "You need your rest, sir. You've had a busy three weeks." Pike faded off into his nightmares, where he relived the entire three weeks in just a few hours.

3 February 1998

Washington DC, United States of America: Under the White House

1001 Hours

"…Captain John S. Pike!" Pike stood up slowly and walked towards the stage, his stiff uniform hurting his still healing body. Pike slowly moved up the stairs to shake hands and salute the President. Cameras flashed, forever capturing the image of Pike and the President shaking hands, with pictures of the combat zone slowly changing in the background.

The rest of the ceremony went to slow for Pike. The awarding of a Distinguished Service Cross was definitely a defining moment in his life, but the entire time the ceremony had been proceeding, he couldn't stop thinking about how he had lost his best friends in that horrible place.

Finally the ceremony was over, and the banquet commenced as all the generals and White House

staff members ate and talked in the small room. Normally these kinds of awards were public knowledge, but since Pike didn't exist that posed problems that weren't ready to be released to the world yet. Pike wandered around the room, talking amiably with many generals and admirals, even though his stomach had never left the knot that had formed that day in Afghanistan.

"Captain! Can I talk to you for a moment." Pike slowly turned around, expecting another general to be wanting to talk to "a fine example of American fighting spirit." It wasn't a general. Four figures stood there. Two stood in Air Force dress blues, two in standard civilians clothes, one still wearing a hat. Pike flinched inwardly, he had it ingrained in him to always take his hat off inside, especially in the White House.

"Yes sir, what can I do for you," Pike paused looking the man's uniform, "Colonel O'Neill?" Pike asked, finally finishing his sentence.

"Uh, yeah. I wanted to introduce you to a few of my colleagues, this is Captain Samantha Carter," he said, indicating the female in Air Force Blues standing at his left.

"Captain," Pike said, greeting her in a short and to the point manner.

"Captain," she replied.

"This is Doctor Daniel Jackson," O'Neill said, indicating the man in a suit on his right.

"Doctor,"

"Captain,"

"And this is… Murray," the Colonel said, indicating the man on the other side of Carter.

"Murray," Pike said in greeting. Murray didn't respond.

"Well, I just wanted to drop off this," he said, handing Pike a thick manila folder. "And I recommend you accept. The job is great."

"Yes, sir. But what job, sir?"

"I don't know. I was told not to look inside. But if you work where I work, it'll be worth it." O'Neil smiled and then turned to go. Pike just watched them all leave, finally getting the nerve to look in the folder. What he found was hard to believe.


	3. A New Job

Chapter 3: A New Job

10 July 1998

Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado: Exact location classified

0658 Hours

Pike sat at his desk, the only desk within the entire mountain that had an Army seal instead of an Air Force seal. Pike had been recruited just over five months ago, and, in short, had been recruited for his knowledge of combat and survival, as well as his incredible ability to persevere.

The long version of why he was recruited is much more complicated. He had spent the first few months of his career at SGC coming up with a plan as to how to create his team. Pike was supposed to take soldiers from across the country to train to be the most effective fighting force possible to do all the SGCs "black ops," search and rescue, in addition to being the SGCs main backup team who could come in and tip the balance of power in favor of the SG teams if they were surrounded, captured, under attack, or any other conceivable situation.

Pike placed a pile of folders back on his desk. Today was the day he would have to brief General Hammond of his plan. He hoped it would go smoothly; the General had been in a good mood for the last few days..

Pike jumped a bit when a folder snapped close, a result of the fact that a few night terrors and daily reminders of his ordeal remained. He quickly regained composure and continued gathering together binders and things to be able to bring with him to General Hammond's office. Pike stuffed the bunch of folders and binders in a briefcase and which he grabbed and carried down the corridor. He always carried his folders in a briefcase after running into an airman one too many times and having to re-organize all of his files. Pike closed the door behind him and stepped out into the hallway.

"John!" Pike turned around.

"Colonel O'Neill. What can I do for you sir?"

"Oh, nothin' much. I was just on my way to some weird briefing and I wanted to ask you if you wanted to come fishing with me in a few days. After my next mission I get a week off, and wanted to see if I could find someone to go fishing with."

"I'm sorry, sir. I am giving that briefing in a few minutes, and if I get my plan passed, I'll be busy for a while before I get any time off to speak of."

"You're giving me that briefing?"  
"Yes sir," Pike said as they both started walking down to the briefing room. "Didn't you read the bulletin that I put in your inbox?"

"Me? There are too many to read all of those." He looked back at Pike, who stood there with a stoic face. "You're not kiddin'?"

"No, sir."

"So, who all is going to be at the briefing?"

"You, General Hammond, and Teal'c, sir."

"Why?"

"Well, General Hammond is in charge of the base, and you're in charge of all the SG teams. Dr. Frasier is the head of the medical department. I am going to need help from all three of you to get my mission done. General Hammond is who gives me the OK, Teal'c is because he is the resident Goa'uld expert and can help us refine our tactics in a way that will allow us to use the gaps in the Jaffa tactics to our advantage, and you can help me by giving me access to all of the SG training and teams as well as extra logistical support."

"What? Over SG-1?"

"I'm afraid so, sir. It will be fully explained during the briefing, but if my team is called it will be in much more dire need then your team, sir."

"Should I ask Carter to get you techni-"

"No! I mean, no sir. The point of this team is to not exist, and to have our team be the "black ops" of this base. The only people who will know about it will be in this meeting. The two men marched up the stairs to the top where General Hammond and Teal'c were waiting for them in the General's office.

Pike made formal greetings and went directly into starting up his PowerPoint deck and general preparation for the meeting. General Hammond and O'Neill struck up a conversation between the three regarding gate schedules and which teams should go when, mostly routine stuff. Teal'c stood off to the side silently. This continued for several minutes until Pike cleared his throat.

"Excuse me, gentlemen, but I am ready to start now." All three took their seats silently. "Now, let's begin. This is what I was brought in here to do initially, and this is my plan. As you by now know, I will be the team leader for the SGCs black ops team. Our missions would include searching for overdue or lost teams, reconnaissance, assassinations of Goa'uld system lords, extra back up for teams pinned down, first strike team, you name it we'll do it.

This team position is currently not filled by any SG team. I propose to open up applications for one month to the SG teams and the Special Forces community. Those who get chosen for the school will undergo two weeks of rigorous testing—starting with physical conditioning and moving into squad tactics and the like. From there I will choose the cream of the crop. I am looking for high marks in all of the categories. During the week I will be spending time getting to know all the candidates, so in case of a couple of closely matched people I can determine which I think would make a better team member.

Once I choose my team we will begin about one month of strenuous combat practice, specifically regarding the gate and fighting Jaffa—which is where I will need your help Teal'c. After our team's training, we will be fully active. During the morning we will still do plenty of training and physical conditioning, and the afternoon's will be spent preparing our gear for the next day and doing what needs to be done around the base. That last part might be different if we were granted standard missions as well. However, if this team went on such missions, that might keep us from available during a crisis. Any questions so far? Good." Pike kept talking and going into more and more detail about the logistics and planning involved for a good half hour before he stopped. He silently prayed that he would get a green light to open up the application process.

"Thank you Captain. Please wait outside while we discuss our decision," General Hammond stated briefly.

Pike stepped out into of the room and retreated to the nearby table with a coffee pot on it. He quickly poured a cup of black coffee and drank it quickly in a vain attempt to calm his nerves. He could see the three men discussing the situation through the glass in the office window. O'Neill was arguing it with his usual, flamboyant and flippant personality. Teal'c sat mostly silently, occasionally interjecting one or two words. Hammond kept a much more peaceful look then O'Neill, but was definitely talking more than Teal'c did.

Pike refilled his coffee and took a sip. He had come so far in such a short amount of time. Sure, he had thought he had been progressing quickly through the Special Forces community, but he had no idea that there were young lieutenants who got a jump on their career by going through a wormhole to other planets. He had definitely worked hard to advance that quickly in his time in Green Berets and Delta Force, and now he had a chance to show that that work had finally paid off. Who knew how many planets were waiting for him to step onto, as the first human from earth, maybe even the first human ever! The training of his team could not go fast enough. _"That's assuming,"_ he thought, _"that I'll even get permission to train them. If I don't, I at least hope I can make or be a part of a regular SG team."_ Pike finished his second cup of coffee and tossed the cup into the nearby garbage can.

"Captain Pike," Pike looked up to see who had called his name. Teal'c stood in the open doorway and beckoned to come inside. Pike walked over to where Teal'c stood, and followed the giant Jaffa inside where the other two men were waiting. Pike stood at the end of the table, close to O'Neill and Hammond. Teal'c took a seat at the far end of the table.

"We reviewed your proposal," General Hammond started. Pike imperceptibly leaned forward in anticipation.

"…and we like it." O'Neill finished abruptly. General Hammond glanced at O'Neill with a hint of frustration at being cut off in his eyes.

"I'll begin sending out invitations to the Special Forces community, and you finalize planning and supplies. Good luck, Captain," said Hammond. Pike saluted briskly and left, walking on clouds all the way back to his office. This was his only chance.

10 July 1998

Colorado Springs, Colorado: The Pike residence

1631 Hours

Pike closed the door to his house and stepped inside, silently cursing the ongoing downpour. His dress shoes squeaked on the wood floor of his house as he hung up his soggy uniform jacket. Although many people on the base wore fatigues all the time, he felt until his team was ready he would continue to wear dress greens to work. Pike grabbed the now-soggy bundle of mail and trundled into the kitchen.

"You're home early." He glanced up to see his wife talking to him from across the kitchen.

"Oh, yeah. I got some stuff approved early in the day, so I was able to be more efficient, hence me getting more done earlier, hence me here this early." He dropped the mail on the kitchen counter and looked over at his wife. She was smiling—something she never ceased to do. Her bouncy hair matched her carefree attitude, a welcoming trait after being through some of the hell that John had gone through. She had been cooking, of that John was certain. She wore an apron spotted with flour, the same substance that adorned her left cheek just above the chin and directly to the left of her constant smile. She also was wielding a wooden spoon, something that she could work as easily as John worked his rifle. But she was more used to the fine touches that were required for the culinary arts then John was. John's career was one that often required brute force—the infantry. Rachel's career was much more delicate with much more schooling required—she was a surgeon at a nearby hospital.

John shook himself out staring at his wife… again.

"Sorry, what'd you say?" he mumbled finally.

"I said, 'that's good.'" Pike sighed. That one topic that never seemed to leave the fringe of his mind had once again jumped to the foreground.

"You know, I don't thank you enough."

"For what?" she said, turning back to the stove quickly putting a pot on a flaming burner.

"You never stopped hoping and believing." He was referring to three weeks that was hell for both of them, albeit one more than the other. "All of our friends said that you didn't believe the reports, that you had faith that I was coming back. Even when I did come back, you helped not only me, but Melissa, Jamie, and Christie," he said, referring to the wives of his former team members. "I'll never know how you made it through." He reached forward and twirled her hair in his fingers lovingly.

"Oh please," she said dismissingly. He rounded the table and gave her a quick hug, and joked,

"Okay, what's the quickest way to ruin this food?" She gave him a shove, and directed him on how to cook the rice and make a salad. She cooked the chicken quicker then John could even make the salad. The two sat down and enjoyed a rare evening where the two could play cards, or a board game, or do whatever they wanted. The two finally went to bed around 10 PM.

"_Welcome back." Pike jerked his head up to see _her_. How he wished these restraints were loose. "Did you have any nice dreams? Were you home, perhaps? Enjoying life anywhere but here?" Her smooth voice infuriated Pike. _

"_I'll kill you."_

"_Yes, you are indeed one of the most interesting prisoners I have ever had before. I keep giving you more and more, worse and worse, but yet you never beg for mercy. Rather, you threaten the torturer. That is why I have used these for the first time on you. Feel lucky." She gloated, gesturing to a defibrillator unit on the floor. "See, you have died. You almost got the easy way out, but you are too much fun. I'll enjoy this."_

"_For the record, I won't die. The reason I won't die yet is because I haven't killed you yet." She pulled a knife out of her back pocket and made a quick slash down his arm. Pike cursed at her as he grimaced in pain. A guard appeared next to him, holding a cup as the blood poured off his arm and into the cup. The cup was handed to her. She chugged the entire cup, leaving blood running down the sides of her mouth_

"_I will eat away your life one piece at a time. Keep working," she said, looking at another guard. The guard raised a large wooden staff as she walked away. The impact sent his head spinning backwards. The guard raised his arm again, the second blow sending him into the awaiting-_

"John!" John jerked out of bed. Rachel looked at him with concern in her eyes. "Nightmare?" John nodded. He let his head sink back into the pillow. He hadn't told anyone that he had died, or that little vampire had drunk his blood, multiple times. She was a freaky one, all right. His wife of three years was concerned for him, he hadn't been able to go a week without at least two night terrors. Nobody could blame him, though. He couldn't tell her what actually happened, she just knew he had been tortured badly. All of those large, vicious scars on his body were evidence of that, Well, the new ones were. There were a few old scars, but he was now covered head-to-toe in scars most of them long like someone had taken a knife and stuck it in his side and then drug it to his ankle.

He hated those scars. They reminded him of time he would like to forget. She hadn't made up her mind whether she hated them or like them. She hated the person who did that, that's for sure. But all those scars were evidence of him doing his jobs, protecting America, protecting _her_, and she liked that part.

She pulled him close and stroked his cheek. She snuggled into him further, to comfort him and to comfort herself. There was something comforting about sleeping with a big, warm, teddy bear that could destroy anything in its path. He didn't mind being her teddy bear, and she knew that. She also knew that he never showed that part of him to anyone else. It was something special, something unique he saved just for her. She fell asleep with her head resting on his chest, rising and falling rhythmically on a comfortable source of heat.

John woke up early the next morning, his sleeping wife still lying partially on top of him. He wormed his way out of bed, taking great pains to not wake her. He slipped on his PT clothing and went outside. Despite it being Saturday, he liked to get moving anyway. He quickly jogged off and away from the house.

"_Cold, where is… urgh."_ Rachel's mind slowly awoke to John's absence, and her lack of a heat source. She flipped over in bed, and pulled herself out of bed throwing on a fresh T-shirt and a pair of sweat pants. She found her way to the kitchen. _"Ah, there it is."_ The greatest blessing to the world, coffee. She cooked up some eggs and ham and set them out on the table, anticipating John would be back in 3… 2… 1… The door opened. She rolled her eyes at his predictability. John stepped inside, panting a little from his morning jog.

Rachel grinned and gave him a quick kiss hello. They sat down next to each other, munching away and going over their plans for that night. Both had things to do during the day, but they had set aside Saturday nights for a date. The two tossed back and forth ideas until they had settled their debate, and began clean up.

John left the room to take a shower. Rachel moved around the room, cleaning this, straightening that. She sat down on the couch, quickly flipping through the channels to land on a cooking show. A few minutes later she heard John walk up and stop behind her. She turned around quickly to see his crisp… Air Force uniform? Where were his Army Dress Greens? She glanced up and saw an unfamiliar face. She gasped and jumped back a few steps.

"Oh!" She yelped, quickly regaining her composure. "Sorry Lieutenant. I wasn't expecting anyone."

"I'm sorry I frightened you ma'am. Is the Captain here?" the man said without emotion. She nodded cautiously. This Lieutenant had just appeared out of nowhere. Had he been hiding in the cupboards? John stopped out of the bedroom in jeans and a T-shirt.

"What the-," John began.

"I'm sorry sir. General Ha-," he paused and glanced over at Mrs. Pike. "The General wants to see you now, sir."

"Okay," Pike looked at the man's shoulder, "Lieutenant. I'm assuming you brought a car?"

"Yes, sir."

"Can you tell me what this is about?"

"No, sir."

"Is this going to be a long thing?"

"I do not know, sir."

"Dress greens?"

"Fatigues." John motioned to Rachel to come over. The two retreated into the bedroom where John closed the door.

"I'm sorry. I'll try to make it home in time."  
"Don't worry. It's part of your job, just don't stay away for three weeks." She laughed quietly. He gave her a hug, softly stroking her hair with his right hand. John disappeared into the bathroom, reappearing a few minutes later in his woodland camouflage. He gave her a quick peck before disappearing with the lieutenant.

Rachel sank down into the couch. That dreaded feeling came back on her, the one he had when he was suddenly disappeared for three weeks. She couldn't stand to lose him like that again. She sat still for a few minutes, alone in a quiet house. She quickly got up and got moving, she couldn't stand not doing something now. She needed to keep busy.

Pike piled into the car waiting outside. He was expecting a black sedan, which was the normal for being pulled out of your house for some classified operation. The HMMWV (High Mobility Multi Wheeled Vehicle, or Humvee) was unexpected. As soon as he and the lieutenant had buckled their seat belts, the sergeant who was driving floored the accelerator, thrusting everyone back into their seats.

"So, what's the rush?"

"Sorry Captain, SG-1 is overdue."

"So? They're overdue all the time. They do their best work while overdue."

"Normally I'd agree with you sir, but this was supposed to be a strike mission. Lots of Jaffa and a big weapons cache."

"And General Hammond is worried because of the 'lots of Jaffa' part."

"Yes, sir."  
"Sergeant, what are you waiting for? Drive faster!"

Twenty minutes later, Pike was stepping into the gate room, his M4 swinging loosely from his the sling. Ten other soldiers surrounded him, all of them checking each other's helmets, gear, rifles, and other equipment were secured and tight. The squad was split into three different teams, Alpha squad, Bravo squad, and Charlie squad. They had four, four, and two people respectively. Alpha and Bravo were the assault teams, while Charlie was their sniper team.

The final chevron locked itself wide open, and the team formed up.

"Alright, Alpha and Bravo go through single file next to each other. Alpha, take the left flank and Bravo gets the right. Charlie comes in at the rear, and they wait for my signal to come back through the gate. When you get my ok, then you come through. As soon as you get outside, form a defensive perimeter. Don't shoot SG-1. Questions? Good. Move out." The two teams and the Captain disappeared through the gate. "Charlie team, come through now." The last part of the team disappeared, and the gate shut down.

"Godspeed," General Hammond whispered.


	4. The Raid

Chapter 4: The Raid

11 July 1998

1425 S Murray Blvd, Colorado Springs, Colorado: Safeway

1000 hours

Rachel browsed through various aisles, looking for the perfect ingredient for lasagna. She scanned the various types of cheese, searching for something to add a little extra zing to the food. Her concentration and thought process were both interrupted by a loud ring from her pocket. She dug her hand into her pocket, extracting the phone and flipping it open in the same motion.

"Hello?"

"This is Dr. Blightman, is Dr. Pike there?"

"Speaking," she replied.

"Dr. Pike, the hospital needs you to return to duty, even though you aren't on duty today. We have a medical emergency, and we need you to come back. As soon as this crisis is over, then you can return home."  
"Ok, doctor. I'll be there soon." Rachel looked back at the cheese. Oh well, the lasagna can wait. Someone's life needs to be saved.

11 July 1998

P3X-782: Outside the gate

0849 Hours

Pike stepped through the gate, instantly dropping to a knee and aiming at the surrounding shrubbery, half expecting an ambush to come running out, weapons blazing. When no assault came, he grabbed his ISR (Inter-Squad Radio) and gave a quick order.

"Charlie team, come through now." Five seconds later, the team appeared next to the captain. The puddle disappeared from the gate, leaving the surrounding forest notably darker. Pike looked around for a few seconds to get his bearings. They were in a dense wood with thick shrubbery and massive trees obscuring the sky. Two paths had been cut through the wood, about width of two people standing shoulder to shoulder. The Stargate stood imbedded into a large rock, the DHD standing off to the right on its own rock. They forest stood with the usual animal noises of birds and various animals screaming their announcement of life to the world, while insects buzzed and small animals and rodents left ripples in the shrubbery where they ran.

"Alright, take the left path in this order, Alpha, me, Charlie, Bravo. Ranger column, stay on the alert. Don't fire unless fired upon or until I give the order. I want to get in and out without a shot if possible." The teams moved to their dictated positions and marched out wordlessly.

Heads were turning constantly, each attempting to see the Jaffa before the Jaffa saw the soldiers. A snap in the bushes caused nearby soldiers to spin quickly and aim their weapons. The twig snapper turned out to be an animal akin to a dog, causing the soldiers to relax. The soldiers controlled their breathing, calming themselves down and quieting them down, allowing the troops to hear Jaffa coming from a further distance. Boots slopped through mud and splashed through puddle, but the forest seemed never ending. At long last, direct sunlight was spotted where the end of the forest. Pike signaled for the team to stop, and the signal was passed up and down the long chain.

Pike motioned for Charlie team to follow him. The three men snuck up to the edge of the forest and used their optics to survey the land. One of the snipers leaned over to Pike's ear and whispered,

"One major building, and a few smaller ones surrounded by a wall. Guards posted on the main building and the wall, but all are watching the commotion on top of the main building. SG-1 is on top, bound in chains. It looks like a public execution or torture." Pike nodded and told them to set up for a sniper shot. Pike went back and got in the two teams to form up together. They snuck across towards the outer wall. Alpha team took up a position on the left side of the main gate, Bravo took the right. Pike stuck with Alpha. Pike grabbed the radio.

"Charlie team, shoot the torturer or executioner, whatever he is. After that, take out the wall guards. Shoot as soon as you can," he said into the mic.

"You know you can't get away with this. Our people will be coming for us," O'Neill said to the torturer, a sick and twisted Goa'uld working for Apophis.

"Good. You tell me when they come, so that I can capture them as easy as I caught you, and have some more "fun" with them." The Goa'uld said in his unnaturally low voice, slowly reaching forward with an evil-looking knife. The Jaffa looked confused momentarily as the Goa'uld's head snapped backwards and he tumbled to the ground.

"Oh! Our friends are here!" O'Neill said cheerily to the dead Goa'uld. The report finally caught up with the bullet, and the assault teams broke from cover. The teams streamed inside either side of the gateway, firing upwards at the guards. Many guards were slain in a confused fashion as they were slaughtered from both sides.

Pike ran through behind Alpha team, his adrenaline pumping. He took cover behind a large slab of stone, and sighted at a Jaffa warrior. Pike pumped six rounds into the man's chest, before quickly dashing towards the main building. Pike never even saw the man hit the ground.

Bravo team secured the outer buildings and re-set charges on the weapons cache while Alpha team cleared the main building and freed SG-1.

Alpha team lined up at the main entrance, ready for the signal. Pike gave the command and a burly man rushed up and kicked the wooden door three times. A second man tossed a frag grenade inside, before quickly ducking back behind cover. The grenade filled the air with deadly fragments, and the team rushed in just behind. Pike found himself strafing along a wall, clearing the room of Jaffa. Plasma blasts impacted the walls around him. Pike fired back steadily hitting one man twice in the chest, once in the neck, and twice in the head. A stray bolt of plasma flash-burned his left arm, knocking Pike off his feet. Pike clambered back to his feet, laboriously reloading with only his right arm. He clambered up the stairs going to the second level to get SG-1. An alpha team medic rushed up to him, wanting to help the man. Pike brushed him aside, talking about how he would get medical attention upon return.

Pike across the open ceiling of the main building. Pike pulled a knife out of his vest, quickly cutting the cords on holding SG-1 hostage.

"Good job, Pike. You sure went a long way to prove your point of what we need,"

"It was unintentional sir, but as long as we get the job done, I'm satisfied."

"What happened to the arm?"  
"Stray plasma blast, sir. Nothing to worry about. Here," Pike said, unslinging his M4. "You should use this, sir. It's hard to one-hand an M4. I can use this," Pike said, drawing his pistol. "Let's go home, sir." The group descended through the stairs, to find the team preparing to move out. Pike had the team form up, and they picked up the sniper team on their way back. They stopped at the edge of the forest to watch.

"3… 2… 1… Go!" O'Neill pressed the detonator and the entire complex lit up in a raging fireball which ravaged the sky with its intense heat. The light, sound, and flame could be seen and heard for miles all around, and the shockwave could be felt even at the distance that they team was at.

The team turned back and retreated in the same formation they came, albeit much happier. They had gotten in and out without injury—save Captain Pike's arm and an Airman's leg. SG-1 was much happier now that they were no longer in imminent danger. Teal'c didn't seem to mind either way, he was still stoic. Alpha team stepped into the clearing of the gate—greeted instantly by furious Jaffa. The Jaffa had seen their base go up in a ball of flames and had used a shortcut and gotten to the gate first. They wanted a fight with those who had destroyed their base. One Alpha squad soldier was injured instantly, another was killed. The other two dove for cover, while the remainder of the teams fanned out, trying to avoid being pinned down.

Pike squeezed himself behind a small rock, and kept trying to peek out to see what was going on. He finally peeked enough to see where one Jaffa was hiding. He swung around with his pistol and drummed nine rounds into the man's chest. The man dropped quickly, leaving Pike with the difficult process of one-armed reloading. The rest of the team seemed to catch the routine and Jaffa started dropping more and more quickly. Bolts of plasma and bullets were exchanged for seemingly hours on end. Jaffa blew away parts of the rocks that the soldiers were hiding behind, while the soldiers shot the Jaffa in the chest.

When Pike saw that all of the Jaffa either were either dead or running away, he quickly stood up to dial back to earth. He dialing home, working his way through the seven symbols quickly. He depressed the red button in the middle, watching with gratitude as the wormhole jumped to life. Pike looked up and walked towards, it motioning the soldiers to go through.

Across the clearing, O'Neill watched the bolt of plasma leap from the bushes and impact in Pike's chest, sending him flying backwards into the rocks. He dropped to the ground bending backwards over a piece of rubble, blood running from the wound across his face. Multiple soldiers fired their weapons in vain at the Jaffa who had disappeared into the woods. O'Neill quickly grabbed a radio from a nearby soldier.

"Stargate Command, this is Colonel O'Neill! We are coming in with a seriously wounded soldier, have medical teams on standby!" O'Neill quickly hoisted Pike on his back as soldiers started going through the gate. O'Neill dashed through, Daniel, Carter, and Teal'c right behind.

10 July 1998

Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado: Exact location classified

1033 Hours

Rachel gathered her wits before entering the surgery room, deep in Cheyenne Mountain. She felt bad about having to lie to her husband all the time about working at a local hospital. She knew that he was suspicious about her always being out whenever he went to see her. Oh well, that's part of the job.

"Ok guys, what's going on?" she said, addressing her nurses.

"No idea. Something about a rescue mission for SG-1. When the rescue mission went overdue, we started to worry and called you back. It might be nothing, it might not. Anyways, we'll know soon enou-" The phone rang, cutting off the nurse. She quickly grabbed it off the wall. "What? Mm-hmm. Ok. Gotcha." She hung up.

"What was that?" Rachel questioned.

"The rescue team is coming back, and they have one guy shot in the chest with a staff weapon. A few others were shot but none as serious as this guy."

"Ok. Prep for surgery so we can go in, clean the wound, and put the poor man back together."

"Ok."

O'Neill unloaded Pike onto a medical cart, where doctors hovered over him trying to keep him responsive.

"Sir, can you hear me?"

"Sir, we're going to move you onto-,"

"Stay with me, sir."

"Sir, can you feel this?"

Seemingly hundreds of questions bombarded Pike as he struggled with consciousness. Lights flashed in his eyes, and people were talking to him from all directions. Pike vaguely recognized faces, but images blurred together, voices slurred, and everything was becoming very hard to understand and extremely tiring just to even try to listen to. He should just take a quick nap… just a few seconds…

"Sir!" Some unkind person shouted in his face. He tried to focus on the face but couldn't make out any details.

Rachel stood in the hall, waiting to meet her patient. She could hear the voices of the doctors in the hallway. She fast-walked over to meet them, she looked down at the man, whose face was turned away from her.

"What's his name?"  
"Don't know, I haven't looked at his file yet." Someone across the table handed a manila folder across the man.

"Here's the file." Rachel took it and snapped it open, and dropped the file. The gears of time switched to a lower setting, everything passed slowly as Rachel caught every detail of the next few seconds. She burst into a short sprint, catching up to the cart quickly. She grabbed the patient's head and whipped it toward her.

"Hey what are you doing! You could hurt him badly!" She ignored the voice as she wiped the blood off the man's face to get a clearer look. Every detail of his face was ingrained in her memory, and every detail matched John's—her John's—face. She stopped in her tracks, letting the cart whiz away from her towards the surgery room. Rachel quickly jumped back and grabbed the file from the floor. She took it inside the surgery room where the medical staff were transporting John Pike—her husband—to the table. She was going to cut him open, if she messed up, then that was it. He couldn't possibly work here, he had never tol-, well, she hadn't told him either. That wasn't a good piece of logic. She swallowed twice upon hearing her name called aloud. She gathered her wits, and marched into the operating room. She needed to focus—and save a life.

10 July 1998

Cheyenne Mountain: Infirmary

1359 Hours

Rachel marched up the metal stairs, her hair bouncing with the same emotion that her eyes flashed—anger. Janet hadn't known about John, she seemed surprised when Rachel asked her if she knew that her husband worked there. She knew Capt. Pike, but didn't connect their relationship as there were at least two of every last name on the base. How come he hadn't told anyone? She knocked on his door.

"Come in," she heard from inside. She stepped into General Hammond's office.

"How come you didn't tell me or Janet about John?"

"Excuse me?"

"I just operated on someone who I knew was gravely wounded by a staff weapon—no one bothered to tell me he was going to be my husband!" General Hammond sighed, he was hoping they wouldn't have ever known about the other.

"I'm sorry, but my staff and I decided that it was best that you not know that you both worked at the same top-secret building."

"Why?"

"We felt that you two would talk about things going on at work, and there was a greater risk of someone overhearing something, or even one of you telling the other something that the other wasn't supposed to know."

"Couldn't you at least tell me beforehand, at least a "FYI, the almost-dead person who you are going to try to save is going to your husband! Oh, he's over there, barely recognizable underneath all the blood he's caked in!"

"Doctor, I'm sorry I upset you so, and granted I probably should have told Dr. Frasier so that she could schedule another surgeon for the operation."

"No! I'm glad it happened! At least now I know we can save money on gas! Maybe we can stick up for each other! Maybe you should tell other married couples on the base that their spouse works alongside them without them knowing it!" Major Carter opened the door cheerily announcing,

"General, we found what the Jaffa were-," she stopped talking as she dodged to out of the doorway as a doctor with dangerous eyes stormed out. "What was that about?" General Hammond shook his head.

Rachel stormed down through the hallways, her hair bouncing with an energy only derived from anger.

10 July 1998

Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado: Exact location classified

2013 Hours

Pike woke up in the recovery room, a large chunk of gauze covering his chest, and another covering his arm.

"Hey there," Janet Frasier said, her voice coming from a surprised Pike's elbow.

"Hey doc."

"How do you feel?"

"Better then when I was shot, but still not too good."

"Most people have that feeling."

"How long was I out?"

"Since about 10:30."

"What time is it now?"

"About 8."

"Oh no! My wife, she's going to be-,"

"She'll be fine," A voice came from the other side of his body. John slowly turned to see a tired Rachel in a doctor's coat sitting next to him faithfully.

"Rachel, you can't be here, it's a restricted facility!"

"I work here," she said.

"No, you see, um, what?"

"I work here."

"What?" Rachel laughed internally, her infectious smile leaping to her face.

"See, I work _here_. Not at a nearby hospital, I work as a surgeon here."

"How long have you known I work here also?" John asked curiously.

"Since about, oh, when I operated on you," she responded coyly. "By the way, what happened?" John hesitated momentarily, but responded.

"Well, on our way back through the gate, we got ambushed. A few of our guys got hit, and we chased them off into the bushes or killed them. I dialed the gate, and when I looked up, I saw a bolt of plasma come shooting at me. I got hit milliseconds after I realized what was going on, and from there things are fuzzy. Sorry."

"Don't worry."

"So… still want to have that date tonight?"

"Not with you in that condition. Doctors orders," Rachel said, giving him a playful shove in the chest. She immediately regretted it as John winced in pain. He ignored the pain though and continued the conversation.

"How 'bout you go rent a movie from somewhere, and we play it on a TV here?" While Rachel considered the option, Dr. Frasier left to give them some time alone.

"Ok. On one condition."

"What?"

"You let me pull another bed over and we can watch it on a King-sized hospital bed."

"No complaints here."

"Great," she replied, and leaned in to give him a kiss. The Airman who had his leg shot sat across the recovery room.

"How come the rest of us don't get service like that?" The Airman asked Dr. Frasier.

"One, their married. And two, I doubt you could convince a nurse to do that with you." She replied coolly. The Airman continued to sulk when Rachel came back with a movie; the Airman watched the Captain and his pretty wife sit down for a movie, his arm wrapped around her waist and her head leaning on his shoulder.

"Promise me something?" She asked him.

"What?"

"Don't do anything around here that will put you in undue risk. I don't want to operate on you again."

"Agreed. No offense, but I'd rather you not operate on me again. Mainly because I don't want anyone to _have_ to operate on me again."


	5. Reporting For Duty, Sir

Chapter 5: Reporting For Duty, Sir

21 November 1998

Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado: Pike's office

0658 Hours

Pike grabbed the cup of coffee on his desk nearby. His eyes had glazed over a long time ago, but he kept pouring over the applications and results of all the students who had survived his training to the end. He had narrowed down the decision on who he wanted, that was as start. It just wasn't much of one. He had decided that he was going to go with one Pararescue Jumper, a Green Beret weapons sergeant, and a Marine Force Recon engineer. He could almost hear the Army-Navy-Air Force football game debates now, but he had to choose people from a variety of branches. Stupid presidential order. Then again, the forced choices had their benefits. PJs are unparalleled in their medical skills, Green Berets are unparalleled in combat, and Force Recon soldiers are unparalleled in stealth.

He took a sip from his coffee mug, instantly regretting his choice as the blistering hot coffee scorched the back of his throat. He set it down for a minute, trying to devote his attention to the monstrosity of remaining applications to look through. It wasn't really that big, most of those in that pile hadn't made the cut or didn't meet his specifications; most of them had yet to be tossed by Pike. Pike looked through the pile for the ones that he had marked for possible candidates. 3 for PJ, 6 for Green Beret, 2 for Force Recon. Decisions, decisions.

"Mind if I come in?" Pike looked up.

"Col. O'Neill, you're welcome anytime sir." O'Neill walked in and sat down in the chair across from the desk.

"So, how's the whole 'best of the best' selection coming?" O'Neill asked, creating air quotation marks with his fingers.

"Incredibly slow, sir. You wouldn't happen to know up-and-coming PJs by any chance?"

"A few from reputation. You need help, John?"

"Yes sir. Take a look," Pike said as O'Neill stood up and walked around the desk to look at the folders.

"Let's see…" O'Neill's voice trailed off as he scanned the folders. "Don't know him, heard of him, and I've heard of him."

"So you know of these two?"

"Yeah, David S. Cooper and Eric J. Marshall. Cooper has a reputation for getting the job done, but also isn't exactly the best at following orders."

"All due respect sir, you're no poster child for following orders either."

"True. Marshall, he's—from what I've heard—level headed and has a perfect record. Both have distinguished service records, Cooper just has a few demerits for behavior."

"Thank you, sir. Do you happen to know Green Berets or Force Recon people?"  
"Sorry. In that arena, you're on your own."

"Well, thank you again, sir. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to make some calls to some friends in the SF community."

"Right. Well, let me know when you're done."

"Yes, sir."

Pike picked up the phone, quickly dialing people up, and asking questions regarding the different soldiers. Force Recon was easy to choose, he just called enough people until he found two or more people to recommend one or the other. Green Beret was a little tougher, there were so many good soldiers. Finally he narrowed the choices down to two soldiers, after another two excruciating hours of phone calling. Both were approximately equal. 5'11'' versus 5'8'', 240 lbs versus 220 lbs. Both had a tour during the Gulf War, and both were highly recommended weapons experts. He thought about resorting to eenie-meenie-minie-moe, but that didn't seem to be professional enough. After making more calls, he came up with the best candidate. Time to call them in.

25 November, 1998

Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado: In-processing center

1000 Hours

"Staff Sergeant David Cooper, reporting as ordered, sir!"

"At ease, Cooper." The man snapped from "position of attention" to "at ease" quickly and efficiently. Pike reached behind a desk, pulling a gigantic stack of papers. Pike motioned to Cooper to follow him using his head. Cooper followed the officer into an adjoining room, where two other men sat, heads bowed and pens writing furiously on similar stacks of paper. Cooper moved to the empty seat, sitting down quickly. Pike set down the mountain of papers in front of him and left the room. Cooper glanced at the two men. One wore the U.S. Army woodland camo uniform, the last name "Hamilton" barely recognizable due to the subdued green and black nametags. The other—also wearing camouflage—had the name "Roberts," written on his nametag. Cooper looked back down at the unrelenting stack of paperwork. Sighing, he picked up a pen and began initialing and signing across many pages on varying topics.

A seeming eternity later, the pile was completed. Cooper sat back in his chair, his hand and arm on fire from all of the writing. Three airmen whisked away the papers, leaving the three men at the table looking at each other, all clueless. Captain Pike walked back in, holding three more sheets of paper.

"For those of you who don't know or remember, my name is Captain John Pike. Short background, went to West Point, Airborne, Air Assault, Pathfinder, H.A.L.O., Ranger, and SERE and passed all of them. From there I decided I wanted to join the Green Beret, and later went into Delta Force. After a mostly successful op where I earned the Distinguished Service Cross, and I got an offer to lead this team, so here I am. These pieces of paper I am holding in my hand are possibly your careers here, on this base. If you choose to sign this, you must serve on this team for a minimum of six months. Not a long time I know, but we'll be facing some extremely hazardous situations. Every six months you will be offered the chance off the team. If you choose to leave, you still owe another six months to help train and build your replacement. Whatever happens in this base is classified at the highest level, those who break this could be seen as treasonous. Any questions?" Cooper raised his hand.

"How hazardous? Like space aliens hazardous?" The two sergeants across the table looked at him with anger, annoyed at his nonchalance and disrespect towards the officer. Pike looked at Cooper.

"First, address me as "sir" or "captain." Second, this is the military, not science fiction. All I can tell you before you sign these papers, is that there are massive threats that we will face—many times without backup." Pike passed out the papers to the three enthusiastic men. They were signed and handed back to Pike immediately. "Follow me," he simply said. Pike handed the paperwork to an Airman on his way out. The three men followed him doggedly.

The team of four stepped up to an elevator guarded by four airmen with M16s.

"Open it," Pike simply stated.

"Yes, sir." An airman quickly typed in a password and the thick door of the elevator slid open with a hiss. "Have a good day, sir." Pike nodded in acknowledgement and then motioned his team to follow him. The elevator descended many stories, until they got to level 28. Pike showed them to a reception room where the heads of each major department of the base sat, awaiting their arrival.

"This is General Hammond, he's in charge of this operation."

"Good to meet you, sergeants."

"Dr. Frasier is in charge of our medical staff."

"Nice to meet you."

"Dr. Lee is in charge of all our civilian scientists." Lee raised his hand in greeting.

"Col. O'Neill is in charge of all military personnel."

"Hey."

The next ten or so minutes were spent doing formalities, introductions, small talk, and other mindless things until Pike could stand it no longer. Pike politely escorted them out the door, and began making his way to the gate room. He was stopped by a familiar voice.

"John!" Rachel called out, dashing to catch up. John snapped his head around in the direction of the voice. His rock hard face eased from its normal granite face to a more relaxed look.

"What do you need Rachel?"

"I'm supposed to talk to General Hammond about supplies for the OR. He wasn't in his office; do you know where he is?"

"Yeah, he's back that way," Pike said, motioning with his thumb.

"Thanks!" She hurried off, her hair bouncing excitedly. Cooper gave a low whistle, and turned to watch her scamper off.

"Hey Pike! Do you know if that hot chick is avail-" Pike appeared in his view, his face set back in its rock hard—albeit currently mad—appearance.

"First off, its "sir" or "captain," not "Pike." Second, if you finish that sentence you won't live to tomorrow." Pike held up his left hand, spinning the gold band on his ring finger with his thumb. Pike walked down the hallway towards the gate room, motioning for them to follow. Cooper leaned over to Hamilton next to him.

"Barely survived that one, huh?"

"Look Cooper, that guy won't take any crap from anyone. I wouldn't mess with his wife. I wouldn't mess with him at all. He'd break you like a twig." Roberts chimed in.

"Yeah, man. We're all sergeants, so we can get away with being informal with each other. You don't do that to an officer! Jeez, don't they teach you anything in the Air Force?" Roberts prodded in a friendly way.

"Probably more than they teach you in the Navy," Hamilton said, that particular jest aimed towards Roberts. Cooper and Roberts would have given their retorts, but had their voice stolen away as they entered the gate room.

"This is the stargate. It connects to similar pieces of technology throughout the galaxy using a wormhole. Through it, we can travel across the galaxy in under a second. This is alien tech, and it's millions of years old. Don't break it."

"I was right! We will be fighting aliens!"

"I guess it is Sci-Fi after all," Roberts said.

"This is Teal'c. He's our expert on the current biggest threat, the alien race known as Goa'uld and the specific Goa'uld known as Apophis. When we finish in this room here, you will be following Teal'c to the briefing room where you will be briefed on what the Goa'uld are, their weapons, and their strategies."

"Wait… isn't Apophis a from ancient history?" Hamilton broke in.

"Yes, he was an Egyptian god," Pike replied.

"A _false_ god." Teal'c said vehemently.

"Hey, it talks! What else can it do?" Cooper said insolently. Teal'c stared at Cooper, and quickly got the irritating man to back down.

"Cooper, you won't last long here with that attitude," Pike stated flatly.

"Promises," Cooper said with a smirk.

"You've got my permission, Teal'c," Pike said, with slight nod toward Cooper.

"Whoa now, no need to—gaak!" Cooper struggled vainly in Teal'c's grip.

"Let him go Teal'c," Pike stated after Cooper started to lose consciousness. Teal'c seemed reluctant, but let the man go anyway.

"Now, if you'll all follow Teal'c, he'll give you your briefing."

"Follow me," Teal'c said before leaving the room. The team followed dutifully, one man struggling to stay on his feet as the colorful lights danced around his vision. Oxygen is taken for granted.

Pike turned away and walked back to his office to get some paperwork in order. He was looking forward to the day when he would be doing more field work then desk work. As of yet, that hadn't happened yet. Pike sat down behind his desk, momentarily cowed by the mountain of paperwork before him. He sighed, and began slowly working his way through the stacks. A knock sounded at his door.

"Enter." The door opened quietly, and Cooper stepped inside. "Cooper, aren't you supposed to be in a briefing?"

"The briefings ended little bit ago, and I was just shown my quarters." Pike glanced down at his watch, surprised at the number of hours that had passed. "Anyway, I just came by to ask permission to leave the base with the rest of the team tonight. We're gonna hit the clubs."

"Sure, whatever. They did hand out the training schedule during the briefing, right?"

"Yeah,"

"Well then you do know we're training tomorrow. Try to get some rest tonight, ok?"

"Yes, mom."

"That's 'yes, sir,'"

"Yes, sir. Sheesh," Cooper muttered while walking out of the room. Softer footfalls entered Pike's room after a few minutes. Pike glanced up, expecting some status report from an Airman. An irritated wife was the least expected.

"Hello! Now that we're sharing a ride to work, I'd appreciate it if you showed up to the car on time, instead of staying buried in your work!"

"I completely forgot!"  
"I hope so."

"Huh?"

"I hope you forgot, and weren't deliberately letting me stand out in the cold parking lot while you have the keys!"

"Look, I'm sorry! Let me gather a few things, and then we'll go. I'm really sorry."

"Sorry isn't good enough." John looked back at his wife in surprise. "You're constantly putting your work before me, John! I want some time alone with you tonight! I want to be able to talk to you without some briefcase between us filled with things that you _have_ to do!"

"When did this become a 'let's attack John session' and I've never put my work in front of you!"

"You'll disappear for weeks on end without warning! I don't know if you're running off with another woman or actually going on a mission! The only time I know for sure that you went somewhere is when you left for almost a month and came back covered head-to-toe in scars!"

"I can't tell you when I'll be deploying, I don't even know! Wait, how is that putting my job before you?"

"Because you never bothered to think about how I was feeling about waiting with bated breath for a _month_! You didn't even think about getting a transfer, you loved your job more then you cared for me!"

"That's not true!"

"Isn't it? Did you ever think about asking me if I wanted you to get a transfer?"

"Well, I-"

"Did you?"

"Well-"

"_Did you?_"

"_No! I didn't!_ I guess I thought-"

"That's right! You thought, you didn't ask."

"How was I supposed to know I was supposed to ask?"

"You knew to ask me on a date, you knew to ask for my hand in marriage, but you didn't think to ask me how I felt about you in the Army."

"I didn't get a transfer for one reason: I thought I could protect you better if I kept my job and defeated people who could cause you harm. You want to know where I was for that botched mission where my team died and I was gone for a month? I was captured and tortured for three weeks! Not tortured for information, just tortured because the insane lady in charge of the terrorists viewed torture as a form of recreation! For three weeks I fought just to stay alive! The only way I kept struggling was because I kept thinking that I was taking the pain so you wouldn't have to!" Pike glanced toward the door of his office. A crowd of young Airmen and Lieutenants who were interested in what the yelling match was watching with wide eyes.

"Let's go home," Rachel finally said. The two pushed their way through the crowd, finally heading up to the car. John fished the keys from his pocket, quickly unlocking the car doors. John put the keys in the ignition, but didn't turn the keys. He sighed.

"I'm sorry. You're right, I should have been talking to you more. I just wanted to do the best I could in the method I thought was right. Maybe it was, but there were some things I could have done to make it closer to perfect."

"I didn't know," Rachel said quietly, angrily.

"How could you? It's classified. Still is, for that matter. Even if it wasn't, I don't like to think about it, let alone talk about it."  
"How about we both go back to living life the way we have?"

"With some changes about how I deal with my job," John said with a slight grin. Rachel still looked angry at John, and no quick phrase, quip, or action would change that. Incoming enemy fire was easier to work with then his wife, sometimes. John turned back, turned the ignition and the car leapt to life. John drove home.

Dinner passed without much said by either person, as the words of their fight were still sinking in


	6. Mettle

Chapter 6: Mettle

3 August, 1999

Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado: Briefing Room

1000 Hours

"Take a seat, gentlemen," General Hammond said. SGi—as it had been christened—sat down. The name suited Pike's team. They didn't exist, they left no trail, the 'i' standing for the imaginary root of -1. SGi was easier because they were nothing, they never existed.

"Sam, could you please turn out the lights?" asked Jackson. At last, all of SG-1 had been cleared to know about SGi. Jackson would be providing background during the briefings of SGi if they had them. Carter provided them with the latest tech, O'Neill and Teal'c took turns to provide tactical recommendations, with O'Neill taking this one.

"Sure thing." Carter rose out of her seat and quickly shut off the lights. A screen lowered from the ceiling at the same time as a projector flickered to life, casting the image of a lone planet.

"P2X-286, a mountainous planet rich in plant life and Goa'uld corruption. It is the home planet of Sekhmet. Sekhmet, according to ancient Egyptian mythology, was really Hathor while rampaging against humanity at Ra's command. Ra tricked Sekhmet into drinking a lot of wine, and she passed out. When she awoke, the bloodlust was gone. Obviously, Sekhmet and Hathor can't be the same in real life, but they are probably related, most likely sisters. Sekhmet is the god of death, suffering, and torture, and according to legend, drank blood. SG-4 did reconnaissance of the planet a week ago. We have a short video of who we believe to be Sekhmet killing, then drinking the blood of a villager who didn't do her will. This is the picture of her they took. As you can see, she has a light scar across her forehead, you should use that for identification. She also-," Jackson droned on and on about Sekhmet, Pike found it hard to keep his attention on Dr. Jackson and much more amusing to watch Col. O'Neill's facial reactions to all this information.

"Thank you Dr. Jackson," General Hammond said in a friendly way.

"Yes, thank you for boring us with information that doesn't matter! Carter, go up there and show him how it's done," O'Neill said, struggling to stay focused.

"Sorry, sir. My briefing isn't much better."

"Great," he mumbled.

"The most radical piece of new technology will most likely be encountered inside the base," she began. "Basically it's a giant plasma artillery piece. It's the approximate size of a modern howitzer, but can shoot much further and have a greater impact." Carter pressed a button on a small remote, triggering the next slide to be shown. The next few minutes were spent discussing the technical components of the device. Guidance, computer interfaces, emergency valves, and likely sabotage points were all discussed. As O'Neill began falling asleep, it was his turn to step up and give his speech. His main slide featured a birds-eye view of the land. Topography was highlighted, as were the insertion and extraction points, suggested routes, likely patrol routes, and layouts of the enemy base.

"The gate sits here, in a small gap in a dense forest. John, I recommend that you move out in this direction. As you exit, make sure to leave no trace. Move from the infiltration point to a nearby cliff. From there you will make your way down the mountain and into a back entrance of the fortress. Sneak through the streets until you can set up inside the main building. You will all be carrying tranquilizers for this mission, plus your usual loadout. Remember, we need you to _capture_ Sekhmet, not kill her. Use the tranquilizers first. If you cannot for whatever reason capture her, kill her. It's better she's dead then she knows that we're after her. You'll have two days to practice in a mock-fortress that we have built to help you get to know the landscape. Questions?" All shook their heads. "Good, then I'm outta here." O'Neill quickly left the room.

"You begin practice tomorrow at 7:00 AM. Practice long and hard, we don't want to have to send a rescue team for my rescue team. One last thing, this mission never happened, you are all sworn to secrecy. There will be a file that will be kept, and will be given a fake mission report number. Are there any questions? Goodnight, gentlemen." Hammond and the team rose from the table. Pike and his team saluted quickly, Hammond returned the gesture. Pike and his team left the room.

"Finally, we get to see some action!" Cooper seemed almost giddy with joy.

"Save your energy Cooper, you'll need it," Hamilton said, shoving Cooper to the side.

"Oh, so you're the expert on combat?"

"I've had my share, yes."

"How 'bout you, Roberts?"

"I've had a couple ops too. Why, have you ever been on an op?" Cooper remained silent. "Well, your first special forces mission will be on another planet."

"Talk about a learning curve," Hamilton commented. Cooper grunted in response.

5 August, 1999

Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado: Outside the infirmary

1343 Hours

Two days later, Rachel walked through the hallways of the base, her hair bouncing with a small amount of joy. She rounded a corner to see a parade of four men in full combat gear carrying MP5s and M4s. She instantly recognized her husband as one of the men, but the other three seemed unfamiliar.

"John?" John snapped his head over towards his wife. "What are you doing?" Pike turned and handed his weapons to a man on the team.

"Take these with you. I'll be there in a second."

"Ok."

"That's 'yes, sir!'" Pike called after them. John turned back to his wife. "We're going off-world."

"Why?"

"To perform our mission."

"Mission? You're on an SG team? Which one?" John winced.

"No, I'm not," he said hesitatingly.

"So you're not on an SG team?"

"No."

"Then what mission are you doing?"

"I can't tell you."

"What? Is it dangerous?"

"Yeah."

"How dangerous?"

"Very."

"Define 'very,'" she said, with rising frustration in her voice.

"I can't."

"Can't or won't?"

"Both."

"Well what's your job on this mission?"

"I can not tell you that." John said, pausing after each word.

"Yo, Pi- I mean uh, Captain Pike, are you coming?" Cooper called out from around the corner.

"Be right there, Cooper," Pike replied.

"You told me you wouldn't do anything dangerous here." Rachel's eyes flashed, anger seething through her teeth with every word. John's breath caught in his throat. He feared those eyes, which he had seen very rarely. The anger of his wife was one of the few things he feared in this world, ranking right above his Ranger Instructor and enemy ambushes

"I'm sorry," John remembered an earlier conversation. "Do you want me to get a transfer?"

"_Yes!_" she shouted at him. John stepped back. "Yes, you should get a transfer, you should do it before this mission so you don't have to go!"

"I can't skip the mission, for more than one reason. Look, I'll be back soon. We can talk more then. Now, I really have to get going." John turned began to walk down the hallway when Rachel ran past him, turning at the hallway that lead her to General Hammond's office.

Pike walked into the gate room and made final preparations with his team. Everyone had an MP5 fit with a silencer, an M9 fit with a silencer, and a primary weapon which also was silenced. Pike and Cooper had regular M4s with red-dot scopes, Hamilton had an M4 with a longer and heavier barrel, Acog 4x zoom scope, and a Harris bi-pod for long-distance engagements, and Roberts carried a shortened version the M249 SAW. The team checked each other's gear for loose odds and ends. Each person took turns jumping up and down to listen for any rattling which they would eliminate using tape. Finally they signaled the control room they were ready to go, and the gate started spinning.

Rachel reached Hammond's office. Hammond looked up at the sound of the repeated, loud, knocks on his door.

"Enter," he said, and Rachel came in. "Doctor Pike, what can I do for you?"

"Two things, General. One, my husband wants a transfer to out of whatever job he has now."

"I'll see what I can do. He still has to fulfill his obligation to train his replacement."

"Fine, whatever. As long as it keeps him out of danger."

"And the second?"

"I want to know what my husband's job is and what his mission is. He's my husband, and I need to know. I have the highest security clearance, I should know but he still refuses to tell me."

"The second one will be a little trickier. If you'll leave my office for a few minutes, I'll call the president and ask his permission. If he says yes, I'll show you the files on his team, and then you can watch the briefing, which we always record." Hammond motioned towards the door. Rachel left the room, and walked to the edge of the glass which overlooked the gate room. She watched as her husband stepped through the gate. Minutes passed, each one seeming longer then a lifetime as she waited for the verdict from the president. The door opened, and Hammond stepped outside holding some folders.

"Take a seat, doctor." She sat down, but was bursting with questions.

"What did the president say? You referred to 'his team' but John said he wasn't part of a team, how does that work? Who are those men with him? How di-"

"One at a time, doctor. The president allowed you access. John's team doesn't officially exist, and those men are his team. Here are the folders." Hammond slid files across the table, the first four were personnel files, each bearing the name of a team member. The second to last file slid across had the numbers "30185" emblazoned across the front, but nothing else. Inside, was a description of the team and its members. Her heart froze at the sight of the words "… to carry out high-risk, assassination, capture, hostage rescue, emergency, "unauthorized," delicate, or any mission for SGC personnel requiring quick response with a highly trained team, to…" she stopped reading their job description there.

"And their mission is?" She questioned fearingly. The room darkened and the video played. All the information about Sekhmet and the mission just sunk a knife into her chest. She stared at the wall in silence when the video ended. "He's going to die, isn't he?"

"Every SG member takes that chance when they step through the gate," Hammond replied.

"This is different. This is suicide! How could you do this?"

"Sekhmet is a threat, and she is inflicting great pain and suffering on her servants. We are just going to liberate them." Rachel stared out the glass of the upper room at the inactive gate. She turned and left the room, not sure what to think or do.

5 August 1999

P2X-286

1836 Hours

"Area is secure, sir," Cooper informed Pike. Pike turned to his team, directing them into the adjacent woods. Extreme stealth was taken. The team spent the next few days working their way towards the enemy camp. On one particularly slow moving day, they only gained about 500 feet throughout the day. Look, listen for movement, scan the ground, place the foot, move branches aside with the foot, ease foot down, shift weight, look for enemies, wait, listen, and repeat. They finally reached the outer wall of the enemy base. They camped there overnight, regaining most of their strength before the final assault.

They scaled the walls of the base, in an attempt to remain undetected. They crept through the alleys of the buildings, working their way to the city center, where they could hopefully get a shot off and melt back into the shadows, and then intercept the medical transport. The team moved into an abandoned building, quickly clearing off a good shooting position from the second of four stories, which had a good view of the city center.

"Hamilton, set up here." Pike instructed. Hamilton lay down, snapping the bi-pod out for extra stability and began his watch of the area. "Roberts, you watch our rear, and Cooper, you're the first off duty. Take a nap or something."  
"Yes, sir!" Cooper replied enthusiastically, and immediately plopped down and fell asleep, using his ruck as a pillow. Hamilton shifted position after ten minutes, finally adjusting his cramping leg. Roberts kept up his watch, making sure nobody saw them inside. A few Jaffa entered and left the building, but none came upstairs. Pike moved between Hamilton and Roberts, helping them create cover and concealment, while maintaining the buildings average looks. During the night, Cooper took Roberts' spot while he slept, and Pike took Hamilton's spot when he slept. A quick swap, and a thermal sight was mounted and ready for nighttime engagements. Time passed in a monotonous fashion. The only sound herd in that room was light breathing and the soft ticking of Robert's wristwatch. Each man shifted their position at various intervals throughout the night, each trying to move into a more comfortable position in the dark of that night. Their night-adjusted eyes picked up all movements in the unlit town square below. Stars twinkling in the sky above offered the only illumination save the faint glow visible behind the thermal sight. Two Jaffa guards would occasionally stop walking to carry on a quick conversation.

"Ever wonder what their saying?" Cooper asked Pike in a barely audible whisper.

"They're probably talking about how much they hate Apophis or something. Don't worry about it." Pike whispered back.

"This sucks, it's cold, dark, and it isn't even my shift," one guard said to the other.

"Aw, quit complaining. It's not that cold out," the other replied.

"Not cold for you, my last post was a desert planet that stayed lit for three-quarters of the year."

"So?" questioned the second guard.  
"So? So it's really cold, and Ma'tec came up to me saying 'Oh, I haven't Kelno'reemed for days, can you take my shift' or something. I should have just said, 'suck it up Jaffa, we've all had times like that,' and he's a rookie so I go soft." The first guard said, to which the second guard grunted, before changing the subject.

"Hey did you see the Jaffa Army vs Jaffa Navy game last week?"

"No, was it good?" asked the first guard.

"Oh yeah, Army was down 3-0 and we came back in the last fifth of the game to pull off a 4-3 win,"

"You're probably right. Goa'uld tactics and System Lord rivalries probably," Cooper said, before going back to his 'bunk.'

Pike and Hamilton watched the guards movements all night, learning where each turn was, each pause, each step on the path of the various routes. The sun eventually rose, finally giving the tired snipers a reason to switch their optics back to the standard fare. Three more hours of watching and finally a group of Jaffa came out of the main building to a throne.  
"This is it!" Pike whispered excitedly to Hamilton who was no manning the rifle. "Remember, shoot the legs. Multiple times."

"Yes, sir." Hamilton gripped the rifle tighter.

"Behold, your God, Sekhmet!" One Jaffa warrior shouted, as a crowd of people gathered at the foot of the throne. A monstrous hologram sprung up, towering over all of the buildings in the surrounding area.

"No!" Pike said angrily.

"I am Sekhmet, you're God! Behold, the new weapon of your Master's vengeance!" A Ha'tak floated into view behind Sekhmet.

"I will destroy the Tau'ri, the very source of disbelief! I will bring us the final victory, for I am your God!"

"Hail Lord Sekhmet!" A Jaffa shouted.

"Hail Lord Sekhmet!" The crowd echoed back.

"I am loading volunteers in my army now, if you wish to be part of our glorious victory, join now!" The hologram flashed and disappeared. A Jaffa Army and Navy recruiter stood up and began taking down names. He directed the recruits towards an area of the city, from which Tel'taks, troop transport, and transport gliders were loading people and supplies onto the nearby Ha'tak.

"Hamilton, Cooper, Roberts, pack up. We're leaving," Pike stated.

"Um, sir, we haven't completed our mission yet."

"I know, we're chasing her down."

"Sweet. Let's do this. The four men hurriedly packed all of their gear, and rushed downstairs.

"MP5s." Pike ordered tersely. All men swung their silenced weapons up. The team shuffled forwards in a half crouch. They finally approached a lone Tel'tak, apparently attended by only two men, who were very unaware of what was going on. "Hamilton, M4. I've got the one by the crates. On my mark. Mark." Two silenced puffs of smoke were emanated, and two men crashed to the ground. "Cooper, Roberts, pull them inside.

"What have these guys been eating?" Cooper complained as he dragged a man inside. Hamilton raced to the cockpit, to get in the air as quickly. Pike covered the door with his M4 until they were airborne.

"Hamilton, are we cloaked?"  
"Yes, sir. We'll fly through the bay doors, they'll never see us coming."  
"Good. Ok, this is it. No more training missions, this is sink or swim. We're going against outmanned, outgunned, with no backup, and relatively low ammunition. This is the big test


	7. Belly of the Beast

Chapter 7: Belly of the Beast

8 August 1999

Above P2X-286

2349 Hours

Cooper sat in the corner, idly playing with his fingers as the ship rose ever closer to its target. He glanced up at Hamilton, who was skillfully maneuvering behind a formation of ships heading towards the Ha'tak.

"They can't see us at all, right?" Pike asked Hamilton.

"No. They'd have to shoot directly at us or run into us—while not being able to see us—before they could detect the ship."

"Cooper, you ready?"

"Sir, I've been ready for a long time. I still think we should have shot her in the face back there."

"Shoot what? The hologram? Have you gone insane?" Roberts said, walking up alongside.

"At least we would have scared them. Maybe that would have convinced her to leave." "Yeah, she would have left and then come back later to kill us all. Good plan, Cooper," Roberts commented. The rest of the trip towards the main bay was carried out in silence, almost in fear that the enemy would hear them and home in on their position by following where the voices were. They watched in the main window as the Ha'tak grew bigger, until eventually it became all they could see.

"Aren't those doors closing?" Pike asked Hamilton.

"Yes sir. I'm trying to get in before they close. It will be close, sir." Pike heard the engines beginning to squeak behind him.

"Hamilton, the engines are going to blow out soon. Get us in or slow down."

"Just a sec. Oh- brace for impact." Pike repeated back to the rest of his team.

"Brace for impact!" As Pike said 'impact,' the right and left wings of the Tel'tak crashed against the bay door, ripping the outer halves of the wings off. The bay doors continued closing, catching and ripping off the last half of the ship, creating a hollow spinning bullet that careened through the hanger bay. Pike grabbed at his pack lying nearby out of instinct, but was sucked from the ship and thrown into a pile of crates from centrifugal force. The injured ship hurtled out of control towards the far wall, impacting a few moments later as remainder of the ship was ripped apart as it skid through multiple walls.

Pike had a rather large cut across the side of his head, from which blood poured. He stood up quickly, falling back to the deck of the Ha'tak after taking a step and crumbling. He struggled for a few feet, but it was hard for him to move consistently with the room constantly in motion, and blurred to the point of incomprehension. He tried to call out to his team, but was unable to tell if in actuality he was saying anything, due to the irritably loud ring in his ears. Pike crawled a few more feet into the shadows of an overhang before falling unconscious for hours.

9 August 1999

Unknown location

1902 Hours

Pike woke up eventually, his senses coming back slowly. It seemed as if his senses were being sifted through a fine grate, returning bit by bit, grain by grain. Sight came back first, although everything was still spinning and blurred for a long time. Hearing second, his ears only hearing a dull roar at first before settling back into hearing normally. Touch next, he finally became aware of the feeling of the hard metal he had been laying on for so long. Taste was the second to last to return, and strongly prominent was the taste of blood in his mouth. Smell came back almost immediately after taste, also sensing the blood.

He tried to pull himself upright, but barely made it to his hands and knees before the spinning room tossed him back to the ground. How inconsiderate. After a few minutes of laying on his back, Pike noticed the room was pulling itself into focus. It took some serious mental will to get the room to stop flipping around, but it to soon settled down. Pike forced himself to his feet, only able because he was leaning heavily on a nearby crate. Pike reached down and tried to hoist his nearby backpack onto his back. The bag pulled Pike down, instead of vica versa. Shaking his head, Pike pulled the bag along as he crawled along the floor towards a nearby door. Finally, Pike pulled his pack onto his back and stumbled his way through the door, his weapons rattling noisily as they hung from his body. Pike felt what was left of his waning strength leave him just as he found a storage room. Pike tossed his bag into a dark corner and fell upon it, instantly falling asleep.

It took a few more hours before Pike finally awoke. This time, however, he had all of his senses to begin with. He quickly rose to his feet, taking a quick accounting of his gear. The barrel of his M4 was bent and unusable, and the silencer of his MP5 had come off somewhere, ripping the threads off the barrel in the process. His M9 remained completely undamaged, save some scuffing on the side. All of his equipment from his tactical vest were still in place, but his entire ruck sack had been emptied somehow. Pike ignored this and swung the pack on anyway, in case he needed to carry something. He snapped his M9 out in front of him, and let his MP5 hang from his vest. His plan was to ignore his splitting headache and try to not fire a gun at all. But in the event that he did need to, he wanted to remain stealthy unless absolutely necessary.

Pike eased out into the hallway, his M9 tucked in at the ready position. He moved slowly through the middle of the hallway, taking each step carefully; cautiously easing each foot down slowly making no more noise than a whisper. He peered down all the hallways at an intersection he had to cross. Two guards stood motionless by a door. Pike moved slower than is visible to the naked eye, crossing the intersection in only 10 minutes. Once back in the relative shelter of the hallway, Pike stopped to go back and look to see if the guards saw him. If they did, they didn't show it.

Pike accelerated his pace to a slow walk, now that he was away from the main Jaffa barracks and hotspots. It seemed far less likely that anyone would run into him, although it did make him really easy to track if the enemy knew to look for him. But he knew his team, they wouldn't tell Sekhmet anything.

Sekhmet retracted her hand from Roberts head, apparently finished torturing him with her hand device.

"You are a brave race. Insignificant, impulsive, insubordinate, but brave. You tried to hide from me your leader, no matter what the personal consequences. But you failed. I seem to recall this 'Captain Pike' in my travels. Yes, we are quite well acquainted. Jaffa!" A Jaffa guard walked into the room. "Put him with the others!" The guard marched Roberts back to his cell, where the rest of the team was being held. Sekhmet turned and addressed another Jaffa on the bridge. "Give me control of internal communications"

"Yes Lord Sekhmet." The man swiped a few dials, instantly putting the PA system in the capable hands of Sekhmet.

"Hello Pike. I know you're out there somewhere. Unfortunately, we can't detect where you are. Yes, it's your old friend from that puny little place known as 'Afghanistan.' Captain, meet me in one hour. I believe you know there will be ramifications. How's your lovely wife doing? I hope she doesn't get into trouble." Sekhmet cut the recording down, and played it across the entire ship. Pike heard it, and broke out into a dead sprint at the same time as Sekhmet activated a handheld communication device.

8 August 1999

Above P2X-286

1824 Hours

Rachel sat on her living room floor, staring off into space. She wanted to call one of her friends, but couldn't. Those inside the SGC weren't supposed to know of SGi, and those outside the SGC weren't supposed to know that there was an SGC. Her hair lay splayed across her shoulders tiredly; without a bounce, rustle, or any movement to indicating life. Minutes dragged on into hours, and Rachel sat unmoving; something for which she was not known. She was unsure of how to proceed, feeling as if the foundation of her little corner in the universe had suffered a 10.0 magnitude earthquake.

She got up, and wandered about the house for a few minutes, not sure of neither where she was going nor why she wanted to go there. She tried to make some food in the kitchen, but found that she was too distracted to create anything. She finally flopped down onto the bed, trying to get used to a lack of a warm body. All of her dreams that night related her watching helplessly as a Jaffa shot John in the back.

Rachel awoke, thinking that all of the day prior had been a nightmare. When she rolled over, she noticed that John wasn't there, and remembered. She trudged out of bed, continuing with her morning routine. She was dressed and ready for work in a very short amount of time.

By the time she drove in to work, she had figured out what she was struggling with. Primarily, she was trying to separate herself from John emotionally, so she wouldn't freak out when she found out for sure that he was dead. At the same time, she wanted to stay attached to John, because she wanted him to live. Confusion swirled around her constantly as she marched through the routine of checking in.

She went straight to her shift in the infirmary, the day passing quickly as she tended to her duties of standard examinations and stacks of paperwork—a welcome if boring day. The last thing she wanted to deal with was an exciting day filled with unexpected high-stress surgeries. She could practically see herself snapping under the stress under the current circumstances.

She reached the bottom of the stack of papers with a sigh, clicking a pen by pushing it up on her chin repeatedly. After a few minutes of staring at the last bit of paperwork she finished her streak of pen-clicking by keeping the tip out long enough to finish off the signatures required. She snapped the pen closed, giving it a light toss across the room in frustration. She sank down in her chair, burying her face in her hands. In the same move, she pushed her hair back a little, giving it the first movement in its remarkably lifeless day.

"Hey." Rachel glanced up.

"Oh hey, Janet," she replied tiredly.

"Are you ok?"

"No, and I'm under strict orders from General Hammond to not talk about it." Rachel laughed mirthlessly.

"Might it have something to do with Captain Pike not showing up for the last few days?" she asked with an insightful glint in her eyes.

"No."

"Uh-huh. The shift is mostly done. Take the rest of the day off"

"No, I want to finish the shift. It gives me something to do."

"Ok. If you need me I'll be in Hammond's office."  
"Thanks." Dr. Frasier left the room quickly, almost running into an airman running into the infirmary with a burn on his wrist.  
"She can help you, I'll be back in a second," Frasier said cutting off the airman as he opened his mouth to speak to escaping doctor. Rachel laughed inwardly at the confused look on the airman's face.

"Let me see what I can do." The airman came up to Rachel, rolling his sleeve up a bit further allowing her a better view of the wound. "How did you get this?"

"My wrist was the missing link between two pieces of electrified metal."

"Sounds like you're having too much fun."

"Yeah," the airman scoffed.

"I'm just going to bandage this up, then I'll give you a notice for some milder work for the next week. After that you should be good as new."

"Thanks, doc." The next few minutes were spent cleaning and disinfecting the wound, before swathing it in the pure white linen that is gauze.

"Ok. Here's the note for your supervisor. Try to come in tomorrow so I can see if I need to adjust your bandages at all." She handed him the note, and returned to her desk where she had to write a report on the burned airman.

"So uh, doc, would you want to go out with me sometime? Watch a movie?" Rachel glanced up at him, expecting him to be joking.

"What? Uh, no."

"Oh come on! You could come over to my place and we could watch a movie, talk a little bit, get to know each other…"

"Here's piece of information number one that you need to know about me: I'm married."

"Where's your husband?" he said, glancing around.

"He's… not here."

"Is he dead?"

"No."  
"Offworld?" Rachel hesitated before responding.

"Yes."

"Well then he'll never know. At the end of your shift we'll just go by my place and-"

"No! I already said no. How many times do you want me to say it?" Rachel said in an exasperated voice. She looked away from him and back at her computer, signaling that this conversation was over.

"I really think you should come by my house." Dear God.

"No," she said, not even looking up.

"You misunderstand. You have to come to my house."

"No! Now I-" she cut herself off as she looked up at him, and at the pistol leveled in her direction. "Woah, hey! Relax, now. Put the gun away."

"No, you don't understand. You're coming with me now." He flicked the gun in the direction of the doorway.

"Okay," she said, getting up slowly and moving towards the door.

"Good, now we're going to walk off this base. If you tell someone, scream for help, or do anything I don't like, I'll blow you apart. Understand?"

"Yeah, but shooting me doesn't seem like a good way to win over a date, that's assuming you-" Rachel stopped talking as she heard the sound of a hammer clicking into position behind her. "Gotcha. Shutting up now."

"Good. Let's go." They walked out into the hall, almost colliding with the flow of traffic. They walked towards the elevators, knowing that once they got on the elevators, they had passed most of the problems that they would face. They ran into one on the way there.

"Rachel! Where are you off to?" Janet Frasier stood in front of her, arms brimming with files

"Janet! Um, I have to talk to the airman's supervisor to see if there's a way I can give him lighter duties. Apparently he's the only one with a certain skill set in the electrical room, and they need him a lot." She brought her hands, which had been sitting idly at her sides, right in front of her stomach and began fidgeting nervously.

"Are you okay? You're acting kind of odd."

"No. Well, John and I have hit a rough patch, so there's that stress."

"Oh, ok. Do you know if the new shipment of medications came in?"

"Not yet, they're still due to arrive today, though." Rachel had been silently making hand motions of a gun, and then pointing behind her as best as she could. She made sure that all of her hand motions were in front of her body, and out of sight of her 'friend.' Janet noticed what she was doing with her hands, the gears finally clicking in her head.

"Well, I'm going to let you take care of the supervisor work situation. Oh, the medical department is having dinner tonight. Are you planning on coming?"

"I don't know, I'll have to check my schedule."

"Ok. I'll see you around."

"Yeah." Rachel watched as Janet walked off, sure that she hadn't gotten the message.

"Good job," the airman said simply, directing her into the elevator with a push. "Press on," he directed. Rachel slapped the button with the number one on it, and the elevator began its slow ascent.

As soon as Rachel and the airman dropped out of sight, Dr. Frasier started running towards General Hammond's office. She burst into the room, interrupting the phone call with the President.

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry sir, those files haven't been completed yet. Yes, sir. Yes, sir. Sir, I-"

"Close down the base!" Dr. Frasier shouted breathlessly.

"Excuse me, sir. Dr. Frasier, can this wait?"  
"No sir! Close off all access to the outside now!"

"I'll have to call you back sir." Hammond slammed the phone down, ending the call. He instantly picked the phone back up, dialing the speed dial for Sergeant Harriman. "Walter? Close down the base. Scramble security personnel to secure every access to the surface. Unless personnel are currently working on Class-A projects, have everyone return to their quarters. Yes, I mean now." Hammond turned back to Frasier. "What's this about?"

"Just a little further," the airman intoned behind Rachel. They were nearing the last checkpoint before the parking lot. They were almost there, when every single security guard stopped and listened to their radio. The duo reached the checkpoint. The guards checked Rachel and her compatriot's ID, looked at each other, and discussed something deeply. They finally reached a decision.

"I'm sorry, sir. I can't let you go," the guard said.

"What?" The airman gasped, "Are you kidding me? I have the priority of a White House courier. You have to let me through."

"I'm sorry sir, my orders are to not let anyone through. You are included in that anyone." One SF security guard circled around to the side of the airman. The man perceived this deft movement, and reacted with his pistol. He swung the weapon around, snapping two rounds through the stomach of the moving guard. Instantly afterword he ducked down behind Rachel, just the tip of his head visible. The three other guards drew their weapons, all of them aimed directly at Rachel and the man behind her.

"Alright, back off! One false move, and I kill her. Move! Out of the way!"

"Not happening sir."

"Please," Rachel said, fear implanted in her eyes.

"I'm sorry ma'am, I can't allow him off the base."

"Everyone shut up!" the man pulled Rachel backwards keeping the muzzle of the gun resting on her spine between the shoulder blades aiming up through the brainstem. Two of the three security followed them down a hallway into which the airman was retreating. The airman bumped into a door behind him, seemingly pinning him. The man whispered to Rachel, _"Move, and you die._" She got the message. The gun stayed in place, but the hand that was guiding her was pulled away and opened the door behind him. The door swung open easily, and Rachel was slowly pulled backwards. The airman shoved her hard without warning off to the right of the door. He quickly swung the door closed at the same time the two security guards fired. Five rounds penetrated the door, one digging itself into the shoulder of Rachel's captor. The man motioned to move down another hallway, further into the base. At each possible turn and doorway, the passage was blocked by the airman and doors jammed closed. Finally they reach a spot suitable for the man.

"So, is this all an elaborate date?"

"Don't be stupid. I don't actually care about you. I just wanted you to come with me, it would have been easier than trying to kidnap you." The man bent down and bound her hand and foot, tossing her into a dark corner. The airman retrieved a Goa'uld long range communications device from his pocket, activating it.

"Do you have her?" a voice from the small ball said.

"Yes, Lord Sekhmet. There have been some complications, but they pose no concern," the man said, his eyes flashing with an unholy light.


	8. Inconvenience

Chapter 8: Inconvenience

9 August 1999

Unknown location

2010 Hours

Pike slowed his run to a trot, finally coasting to a stop near some shelter. He paused for a few moments, catching his breath and halting his rampant emotions. He berated himself mentally for letting his frustration tell him to run fast towards the command center; that mistake almost got him killed. Pike looked down, and nursed the graze from a plasma bolt. In his haste to get to the bridge, he ran past a group of guards. He lost them in his pell-mell dash through the ship, but one of them managed to catch him barely with a staff weapon. The smell of burnt flesh was nothing new to Pike, but was never pleasant. The good news was that plasma bursts have this nice way of being a self-cauterizing wound because of the heat. Pike grabbed some water, washing out the wound through some clenched teeth, before tying it off with a scrap of clothing.

Pike re-gripped his pistol and moved back through the halls again, this time with greater care. Pike approached an intersection and looked down it. Two guards stood guard on the side of one of the hallways. Pike raised his pistol, took careful aim and squeezed the trigger. The report of the gun was very quiet, almost inaudible. The bullet, however, wasn't. The bullet followed the path Pike had set for it and impacted the wall behind the guards, making a loud clacking noise. The two guards turned to see what caused the noise and Pike slipped past them through the intersection.

Pike slunk slowly through the cavernous hallways, moving slow enough to avoid detection yet fast enough to not waste time. Every sense was heightened to the point of oversensitivity. Any time a breath of air wafted through the corridor, Pike would freeze until he was sure that he was in no danger. Any sound would cause Pike to seize and wait for that sound to be identified and classified as dangerous or not.

"Hey! Who are you?" Drat. Moved to slow. Pike spun, snapping rounds out of his pistol into a three rounds into each of the three Jaffa that snuck up on him. He turned on his heel, tearing down the hallway to avoid repercussions of enemy reinforcements. Pike dashed through a hallway, almost crashing into another three Jaffa. Pike pounded two of them down with four rounds from his M9. The last Jaffa raised his staff weapon as Pike swung his M9 towards him. The staff weapon opened, flashing plasma around the muzzle of the weapon. Pike pulled the trigger to the rear twice, both rounds entering through the opening in the staff weapon, disrupting the power supply with bullets. The Jaffa pulled the trigger on the weapon, a resounding nothing happened. The Jaffa dropped his weapon, quickly drawing a 12 inch double-edged fixed blade, strange symbols adorning the polished steel blade. Pike tried to reload his weapon, but only had enough time to drop the mag out of the gun before he realized it was too late. Pike dropped the gun, and drew a three inch folder knife out of his pocket, assuming a combat pose.

The Jaffa stopped and laughed, momentarily extending his non-knife hand in the universal point-and-laugh sign. Pike stopped and laughed, cutting his laughter short as he snapped his arm forward cutting the Jaffa to the bone from the forearm through the hand with his small knife. The Jaffa instantly recoiled and cursed Pike, but realized that Pike meant business. Both stopped the joviality and began a careful circling of each other, each side cutting the other and receiving cuts.

Pike prepared to fight hard and fast, but was caught off guard by his opponents next move. The Jaffa dove forward, wrapping his arms around Pike's back leg, twisting his body into a roll, giving Pike no choice but to follow. The foot long knife cut deep gashes into Pike's leg as he fell. Pike drew his knee to his chest, soon after sending it flying into the Jaffa's chin, causing his head to spin backwards and into the ground with a resounding thud. Pike used Newton's Third Law to roll over backwards coming up on his feet. The Jaffa jumped to his feet also, his head still spinning from the kick.

The Jaffa jumped forward, trying to get into a close quarters so he could get his knife into the back of Pike. Pike snapped his hand forward quickly, intercepting the Jaffa's face, sending his head flying backwards and his body on top of his head. The Jaffa rolled backwards, coming up to his feet again, and circled. The Jaffa wiped the sweat that had been gathering on the golden emblem on his head, before coming back to attack again. The Jaffa gave a deep slice in Pike's hand, causing him to drop his knife.

The Jaffa felt good about his position now, sending his knife in a wide arc towards Pike. Pike drew his second knife, ducking under the swing. Pike jammed the Jaffa's arm against his chest as he drove closer to make things more difficult for the Jaffa. Pike took his second knife and rammed it through the throat of the Jaffa, ending the fight.

Pike took three steps towards the door, before falling down. He glanced down, realizing that he had slipped on blood; to whom it belonged was another unanswered question. Pike checked himself over, realizing his legs were cut to pieces as were his arms. Two-three inch deep slices dragged on for a six or so inches, a perfect opportunity for blood to flow freely. Pike bandaged up his legs and arms best as he could, but could not deny nor disregard the fact that he had lost a lot of blood and was still losing a lot of blood. Most of his formerly woodland camouflage uniform was now a dark red and smelled of iron. Pike ignored the inconvenience of almost now left leg and left arm movement, pressing on as best as he could.

He reloaded his M9, a feat not easy to do with one hand. He managed to keep the weapon in his hand as he half stumbled, half crawled through the corridors. He almost collided with a map, and despite this it took him nearly 10 minutes to figure out which way to the prison cells. Reading has hard to do when you can barely hold your head up and some inconsiderate person keeps spinning the room on you. He finally knew he was going in the right direction now.

Every moment was a battle for consciousness; a battle against blood loss. His recently applied gauze was now soaked red in blood, and had begun to overpower the already taxed gauze. His conscious thought finally shut down, his body running on autopilot only. Years of intensive training came back to help him, his body focused on accomplishing the mission, not accomplishing it if it was convenient. He had a job to do, and he was going to do it. He feebly rounded the last corner, pounding a few rounds into each guard as they looked at the strange man who was falling to the floor.

"Sir! Open the door!" Roberts urged. Pike blinked away at the confusion, already moving forward towards the gate controls. All the buttons were moving and fuzzy in his vision, he could hardly stand up. He forced his eyes open, trying to make his vision work while imputing the code by feel. The door slid open and the three men came out as quick as they could.

"Alright, let's move. I'll take point, Roberts, you take- hey! Cooper! What are you doing?" Hamilton exclaimed.

"We can't attack yet. Not for a little bit."

"Why?"

"Look at him! He can hardly stand, let alone fight," Cooper stated, indicating towards Pike with his arm.

"We have a mission to complete. We can work with him later."

"No! We have to stop so I can properly bandage some of these wounds before you even consider moving on." Hamilton considered this option.

"Fine, do what you have to. We'll set up something in an abandoned room, but Roberts and I are still going to be doing patrols and getting the lay of the land now, while you do that. As soon as you are done or he dies, we move on with the mission. Deal?"

"Deal." Neither satisfied, the team moved out with considerable tension between the two men. After a little bit, Cooper hoisted Pike onto his shoulders, as he couldn't stand watching the man continue to fall to his knees despite his weight being supported by the wall. When the man finally collapsed, Cooper scooped him up and carried him the rest of the way.

The team found their gear stowed away in some god-forsaken locker room. Each man strapped on weapons, vests, ammo, and other miscellaneous items. Since the team had required on secrecy and covert operations, the team carried little ammunition, a notion that they had begun to regret. Four magazines per gun. Pike's incapacitation helped a little, but he had already been through all his pistol magazines, save the one in his gun.

The team repositioned somewhere they thought was less frequently traveled, and began their work. Cooper removed the gauze, cleaned the wounds and stitched them up. It wasn't a good stitching job, because he didn't have enough stitches so they were spread apart a bit. He had 100, but the job probably required and 300 stitches. Cooper put Pike on some fluids to replace the one's lost, but couldn't do much more. Hamilton and Roberts had come back from a scouting patrol, had observed Jaffa, gotten to know the layout a little better, but didn't engage anyone.

"How is he?" Hamilton inquired.

"Not good at all. It'll be a while before he regains the mobility, dexterity, and strength he had. A while as in weeks or months, not hours," Cooper replied.

"Ok. Well, we did our best, now we have to capture Sekhmet."

"We can't leave him!"

"Yes, we can. We have to complete our mission."

"No, we can't! If they find him they'll kill him!" Hamilton gave this some more consideration.

"How long has he been out?" Hamilton finally asked.

"Since he fell down in the corridor? A few hours."

"I'll give him a few more hours to wake up. When I say to move, however, hide him in a dark corner behind a box and we have to move. Understand?"

"Yes, sergeant."

"Good. If you want to wake him up manually, be my guest," Hamilton finally said, after an awkward pause. Hamilton and Roberts took turns for the next few hours, idly standing guard. Cooper hovered over Pike, keeping him comfortable while sticking him with needles. Finally after three hours, Pike awoke.

"Burglache." It technically wasn't a word, or even anything close, but it was enough to get Cooper's hopes soaring again.

"Sir! You're awake!"

"Hurlang avi schlept?" Pike mumbled. Translation: How long have I slept.

"Six, seven hours? Eight hours tops."

"Idyou getcher?"

"No sir, we haven't got her yet. We've been waiting to see if your condition would change," Cooper explained.

"Hey! Is he awake?" Hamilton called back.

"Yeah."

"Can he move yet?" Cooper looked down at Pike.

"Not yet. Give him another hour, and he'll be ready to move out again." Hamilton grumbled something about risks, while Cooper switched his attention back to his patient. Slowly over the course of an hour, feeling and movement returned to Pike. He wasn't fast or extremely agile, but he could at least talk sensibly and walk around. Finally Pike shoved Cooper away for worrying too much. Cooper silently fumed about his patient not being cooperative, but Pike and the rest of the team were already moving towards Sekhmet's main room. Cooper ran a bit to catch up. Pike's eyes were set now, nothing could pursued him to not go through with this. Cooper sighed, and despite the risks he followed along, checking his equipment and weapons for good measure. Now was payback for getting locked up, and for putting their commanding officer through some hell. Cooper had never seen Pike's arms, never seen the scars. It appeared that his commanding officer was used to hell, but by judging the look on Pike's face, this one was one hell too many. Pike had snapped.

"Let's go kill her."

"We can capture her sir, but we aren't allowed to kill her," Cooper argued.

"Right then. Let's capture her, and I'll trip and accidentally shoot her in the back of the head."

"No sir. Capture, not kill."

"Yeah, right." Cooper began to fear Pike, a slightly insane and dangerous look was shining clear through the Captain's eyes. Pike ordered Hamilton and Roberts to move out quickly.

Hamilton and Roberts recognized the danger in Pike's behavior, but orders are orders. Roberts ran point, Pike was the number two man. In reality, Hamilton was the number two man, as Pike struggled to stay upright, obviously expending more energy than he had gained. A brisk walk to the main chamber was all it took. Pike and Cooper stacked up on the left entrance, Hamilton and Roberts took the right entrance.

C4 was placed on the doors, both rigged to detonate simultaneously. Pike used his MP5, the Roberts used the M249, Cooper and Hamilton used their M4s. Pike gave a quick signal to the other team, which retreated away from the blast radius. Pike gave the other team a countdown from three on his fingers, pressing the detonator on zero. The doors erupted with a deafening crack, the shockwave causing fatal internal bleeding to the sentries on the immediate inside. They both drowned in blood in under a minute.

Pike rushed inside following Cooper. Bullets riddled the control room as Jaffa turned to fight but were cut down. Pike turned to the Goa'uld on her throne.

"You." Sekhmet didn't respond, she only reached over to activate her personal shield. Pike snapped up his MP5, putting four rounds through the hand device, rendering it useless. The Goa'uld snapper her head up, reaching backwards for a sword. Pike ran forward, diving and tackling her to the ground. "You almost took away everything away from me! Twice!" Pike shouted at her, punctuating each slowly spoken word with a punch to the face. "Give me one reason not to kill you right now." Pike pulled his MP5 up, keeping the submachine gun underneath her chin.

"Sir, we have orders."

"I don't care." Pike slowly squeezed the trigger. "I hope there's a special place in hell for you." The round broke, the bullet spent spinning into the wall. Pike had been quickly pulled off Sekhmet by a frantic Hamilton.

"Sir! Control yourself!" Cooper yelled.

"No! I'm going to kill her with my bare ha-" Pike would have finished the seconds but was rendered unconscious by a well-aimed buttstrike from Roberts' M249.

"You will all die slo-" Sekhmet was similarly disrupted.

"Nice job," Hamilton complimented Roberts. Roberts nodded.

"Hamilton, you carry her, Cooper, carry Pike." They would have argued their assignments but they had to move quickly before Jaffa came to investigate the explosion.

The crew carried the two dead weights through the ship, carefully avoiding detection. There were many times that the crew had to duck into a nearby nook to avoid a tromping Jaffa patrol. Those were tense moments, sweat dripping onto the floor as they waited, silenced weapons pointed outwards in the hope that they weren't discovered.

10 August 1999

Cheyenne Mountain: General Hammond's Office

0633 Hours

"How did this happen?" General Hammond demanded.

"We don't know sir," The Captain in charge of base security said. "Rest assured, we're looking into how he got on base. If he got in by one of my guards allowing him in, it will be dealt with."

"And you have assault teams ready?"

"Yes sir. Give us the word and we are ready to storm the room the man and Dr. Pike are barricaded in."

"How can you ensure her safety?"

"There's a small ventilation shaft in the room. We were able to get into that shaft, and plant a small rig. When the assault commander presses one button, that rig will drop a flashbang into the room. As soon as the flashbang detonates, the delay on the breaching charge will activate, tearing a hole in the wall big enough for people to walk through. Move in, secure the room. We also drilled a hole in the wall from which we can monitor the room with a miniature camera. We know when he is aiming at her and when he's walking around. We won't fail sir."

"Good. Dismissed." The Captain snapped to attention, saluted, and left the room. General Hammond sighed, racking his brain trying to figure out how someone could be captured and almost dragged out the most secure military base in the world. The guard who had been shot was stable, ensured a slow but sure recovery. The man was demanding safe passage, as he had rigged some explosives in the base to explode. Days like this were the days he wanted to retire.

"Sir. Captain Pike is now 16 hours overdue," Walter said, silently appearing in Hammond's doorway.

"Who? I've never heard of him," Hammond said, in the manner of a well rehearsed dialogue, reviewed enough times to take all life out of the performance.

"Right sir. Nothing new on Dr. Pike."

"Thank you sergeant." It almost seemed downright evil, a man who he had to deny all knowledge of was probably dead and he couldn't tell the wife. So frustrating. Hammond rose out of his seat, deciding to give Captain Pike until +24 hours before he made a choice for him about what to do with Dr. Pike's kidnapping. Hammond left the office, moving to another part of the base where his attention was needed. However dire the need was, Hammond couldn't keep part of his mind off the situation with the Pikes.


	9. Epilogue

Epilogue

SGC Level 25: Hallway

18 August 1999

1001 Hours

Pike roamed the halls of the SGC. After his recommendation had been approved by Hammond, he was now the official trainer of an unofficial team. He was known throughout the base as the "survivor" or the "pain bringer." Survivor came from his story circulating throughout the base, "pain bringer" coming from the excruciating combat simulations he ran for different SG teams and other base personnel each week. Despite their protests, scientists were included in the events. Their suffering was much greater than the soldiers, as the soldiers were used to it. Heaven forbid sleeping on the ground instead of a mattress.

"Captain!" Pike recognized the voice and didn't want to turn around. The woman dashed in front of him and stopped him by getting in his way. Her name was Kirsten, though she had been known for the last few years as Sekhmet. She was an archeologist who had run across an ancient Egyptian canopic jar. Unfortunately, it contained Sekhmet. Daniel theorized that when Ra tricked Sekhmet into drinking too much beer, he must have had her removed and placed into a canopic jar. That's how Hathor "magically" reappeared. Sekhmet must have stolen the host for a while, however that was done.

"What do you need Se-Kirsten." She winced at his mistake. She didn't need the reminder.

"Look, I want to know one thing real quick." Pike stood there motionless.

"Please tell me you aren't going to kill me in my sleep."

"Why would you do that?"

"I remember Afghanistan," she said, her eyes dropping to the floor. Pike stood there, letting the awkward silence take hold.

"If it makes you feel any better, I have forgiven you."

"Really?"

"Sekhmet I haven't."

"I guess that makes sense." Kirsten stood there for a few minutes silently, still blocking Pike's path.

"Do you need anything else?" Pike inquired.

"Oh. No. Sorry." She stepped to the side, allowing Pike to pass by. "And thanks." She said towards his back.

John sat next to Rachel at the dinner table. The silence between them was threatening to crush them into the ground. Rachel broke the silence.

"Well, it was nice of General Hammond to recruit Kirsten into the program." John snorted.

"Kirsten's an idiot if she thinks she's not under surveillance for the next six months minimum." Rachel said nothing. John sighed.

"I'm sorry I-"

"No! We already had this conversation!" Rachel cut him off angrily. "It's not your fault either that this happened to me!" John snapped his mouth shut as Rachel anticipated his next argument.

"I just can't shake that feeling of helplessness as I lay in a hospital bed unable to do anything but wonder how my wife was after I learned she had been shot in the neck."

"Probably you never will." The two remained silent for the next few moments. Rachel waited for Pike to start a conversation while John remained quite satisfied that nothing was being said. He had no problem with silence. Finally Rachel could handle it no longer.

"Good night." She rose up and left in a huff, leaving John wondering what he did. He quickly did the dishes—if it could even be qualified as washing dishes. He went into the bedroom to find Rachel already in bed facing outwards trying to give him her most obvious cold shoulder. John got ready for bed as quick as he could, hopping into the bed as quick as he could. She obviously didn't want to talk to him right now—he thought. He was wrong, but he wouldn't find out for a while. He stroked her tired hair for a while until Rachel fell asleep. He looked at her and smiled. The suffering had been intense, but worth it. He reached over and snapped the light out. The last two things he saw before falling asleep were his wife, and a shiny new Medal of Honor which lay upon his nightstand.


End file.
